Too Dead For Dreaming
by girlinshipwreck
Summary: Daryl struggles to adjust to the rules of Grady Memorial Hospital, where the weak survive and the strong don't. But as Beth fights to find him again, sometimes it's the weakest that are the strongest... {Bethyl, AU}.
1. Let Me Forget

**Let Me Forget**

_Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind_  
><em>Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves<em>  
><em>The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach<em>  
><em>Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow...<em>

The clock ticked on, the sound strange, incongruous. Time was measured in heartbeats now, not minutes and seconds. Daryl shifted onto his side, throwing his arm over his head as the bright sunlight struck him, pale and piercing. He didn't want to face the day or the dead. Sleep, when it came to him, was his only escape, liquor being rarer than life nowadays. He shifted onto his other side, the springs of the mattress creaking under him in protest, but he ignored it, like he tried to ignore his very existence. Despite Beth's presence, he was still haunted by the past. Unbidden, he would remember the flash of a sword, the prison falling, fire and flame, life painted in cruel crimson colour, the clock counting down...

Daryl's eyes flickered open. For a long moment he stared up at the ceiling, the past becoming broken shards, shards he struggled to piece together, the tick of the clock drilling into his skull. The world was off-kilter, one he no longer recognized. He slowly sat up, taking in the unfamiliar beige blandness of his surroundings, confusion battling panic. Where the hell was he? Where was Beth? He fought to remember, to recall what he'd lost, feeling like he'd lost himself -

The funeral home. _Keep singing. _That damned dog. Opening the door. Walkers everywhere. Becoming trapped in the basement. Fighting his way out. Trying to find Beth. Trying to reach her before they did. Then he was on the ground, the world a blur of black night and blood. There had been the screech of tyres, a white cross, a struggle, something striking him across the back of the head, his body being dragged into the boot of a black car, and throughout it all, there had been the sound of a woman's voice, not Beth's, but a stranger's, then darkness, a swirling, whirling darkness he didn't want to wake up from...

But he had woken from it, only to find himself trapped like an animal in a snare. And he knew he was trapped, he could sense it. The comfortable bed and ticking clock didn't fool him for a second. Where he was, he didn't know, and what he was up against, he didn't have a clue either. All he knew was that he was at the mercy of an unknown enemy, and that there would be no mercy to be found either.

Thinking fast, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, before getting to his bare feet, searching wildly for his crossbow, except it was nowhere to be seen. He checked under the bed and even inside the adjacent restroom, but again, it wasn't there. Some bastard had taken it just as they'd taken him. Daryl stood there, feeling like he'd lost a limb. Then he exploded, picking up the bedside cabinet before hurling it across the room, savagely enjoying the sight of it smashing to pieces. Then he picked up a plastic stool, hurling it at the window, before hurling himself at the door, hammering it with his fists, hollering Beth's name.

"Hey! Hey!" a man shouted, shoving the door open, knocking Daryl aside. "Everything's okay! You're safe!"

Daryl regained his balance before launching himself at the man, who screamed, the pair of them crashing to the ground, Daryl on top of him, pinning him down. But before Daryl's fist could connect with the man's bespectacled face, a gun was being pressed against his temple, making him freeze.

"Looks like I might have made a mistake in picking you up, redneck," a woman said coldly, stepping back so Daryl could get up, gesturing at him to raise his hands above his head.

"Where the hell am I?" Daryl demanded. "What happened to the girl I was with?"

The woman just appraised him, her gaze lingering on his face for a moment too long. Daryl stared back at her, eyes narrowing. _She was a cop, a damned cop, _he realised, trying to hide his bewilderment, taking in her scraped back hair and black uniform, the gold badge and police radio clipped to her shoulder. And she wasn't Officer Friendly material either. The bespectacled man got shakily to his feet, straightening his glasses, before retreating behind the woman. She tilted her head to one side, considering Daryl for a moment, before lowering her gun.

"Shall we start again?" she asked politely, like they were at a damn dinner party or something.

Daryl stood there, sensing the shift of power, that it was no longer in his hands, if it ever had been. But he wasn't sure if the woman was in control either. She seemed to be top dog, calling the shots and shit, but it was like she was playing a part. He might not be good with people, but he was damn sure good at reading them, and he was reading her like a book. Something was off; she was off. Big-time. But he lowered his hands, deciding if she was trying to win the Oscar for Best Actress, he was going to gun for Best Actor, even if he was hardly Daniel Day-Lewis.

"Where am I?" he tried to say calmly. "What happened to the girl I was with? Is she here?"

"You were alone," the woman said, stowing her gun away back in its holster. "If we hadn't saved you, you'd be one of them right now."

Daryl stared at her again, feeling like the ground had been cut away from under his feet. The woman stared back at him, her green gaze dwelling on his face again, almost like she was trying to learn it off by heart. Daryl took a step back, head reeling, heart fracturing. The woman then murmured something to the bespectacled man behind her, Daryl turning away from them, hands balling into fists by his side, fighting the urge to go and punch something, anything. She was lying, but she was also telling the truth. He was alone, and Beth was gone.

_Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands_  
><em>With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves<em>  
><em>Let me forget about today until tomorrow...<em>


	2. I Will Find You

**I Will Find You**

_Before _

The sound of the dead singing their lament of hunger filled the empty rooms of the funeral home, turning Beth's blood cold. But she kept on prising the planks loose, sweat dripping down the back of her neck with the strain. Casting the last bit of wood aside, she had to take a moment to steady herself. She wanted to throw herself headfirst into the fray and find Daryl, to goddamn help him, instead of turning tail and abandoning him, but Daryl had told her to run, to get out, that he'd meet her on the road. So she had to have faith in him that he would be there like he said. She had to trust him like he trusted her.

Gritting her teeth, she swung her legs over the window sill, the worn heels of her cowboy boots hitting the damp earth of the ground outside. Then she was off, weaving her way through the trees and gravestones, moving at an odd jerky pace, her busted ankle slowing her down. But she pushed on, striking out for the dirt road, trying to keep out of sight of the various Walkers staggering around, pulling out her knife as she went, trying to think ahead, like Daryl would.

But as she neared the road, she immediately sensed something was wrong, terribly wrong. Picking up her pace, she started to run at a staggering sprint, only to skid to a halt, freezing at the sight of the crossbow lying on the ground. For a moment the world turned upside down. Then her head snapped up, the sound of tyres screeching shattering the silence of the night. Without a second thought, she snatched up the crossbow, slinging it over her shoulder as she took off after the black car with the white cross in its back window, screaming Daryl's name as she went, not knowing what the hell was happening, except she had to follow that car.

_No matter where you go, I will find you_  
><em>In the place with no frontiers<em>  
><em>No matter where you go, I will find you<em>  
><em>If it takes a thousand years<em>

* * *

><p>Beth collapsed onto the ground, her ankle giving way beneath her, the harsh concrete scraping her skin through her ripped jeans, her hands sickeningly sinking into the mulch of the rotting leaves littering the crossroads. She'd lost track of the black car as it drove into the darkness, leaving her far behind. But still she'd limped on, not stopping, not slowing, the tears rolling down her face as the rain fell, night fading into day.<p>

For a while she just lay there, the grief of losing her father, her sister and the rest of her 'family' at the prison hitting her like bullets all over again, an agony only sharpened by Daryl's disappearance. Then she forced herself to sit up, biting down a scream as she shifted her ankle into a different position. Her arm hit the crossbow lying beside her, vaguely recalling it had slipped off her shoulder when she fell. She stared at it, the sight of it turning her stomach, reminding her of all that she'd lost -

"Well, look it here," a man drawled as he and five other men surrounded Beth, all armed and all ready to claim their prize.

Beth slowly raised her head, feeling oddly calm despite the way her heart was juddering in her chest. Glancing up through the tendrils of damp blonde hair framing her face like a halo, she caught a glimpse of grey cowboy boots and faded jeans, her fingers closing almost automatically around the stock of the crossbow, gripping it with a fierceness she didn't feel. The crossbow had been cocked and loaded earlier by Daryl, the bolt left in position, never fired, breaking all the safety rules he'd hammered into her head. All she had to do was point and shoot...

As the man stepped forwards, bending down as though to whisper in her ear, the others grinning to each other, she lashed out, smashing the crossbow across his jaw, sending him flying backwards. All of time seemed to slow down, then speed up, the past and present colliding like cymbals in her memory - _I can take care of myself _- somehow she was on her feet - _soon I won't need you at all _- the pain in her ankle nearly making her pass out, but still she stood there, legs trembling, hands shaking, aiming the crossbow at the man on the ground, guns surrounding her on all sides, a bow trained on her back.

"I'm claimin' her," the one holding the bow growled, "I'm likin' that ass in them jeans."

"Damn it! Hold up! Hold up!" the man on the ground bellowed, his words muffled as he clutched his mouth, staring up at Beth with narrowed eyes. Beth met his gaze head on, holding her ground as he studied her. He was scared, but at the same time, he seemed intrigued, curious even. The others shifted their feet impatiently, becoming bored. Then the man's face creased up, his shoulders shaking as he started to laugh, making Beth take a step back in confusion. He lowered his hand from his face, spitting out a tooth, only to laugh even more, the sound incongruous amongst the stillness.

"Well, I'll be damned," he roared, "I've just been bested by Barbie."

Beth tightened her grip around the crossbow, trying to maintain her focus. One wrong move and it was all over. She could do this, she was strong. She was a survivor, maybe not like Michonne or Carol or Maggie, but she'd made it. She wasn't going to be another dead girl. The man's gaze travelled over her, taking her in from cowboy boots to ponytail, missing nothing, not even the missing button off her filthy light blue cardigan or the holes she'd worn through its long sleeves to turn them into makeshift gloves. Then he got to his feet, Beth raising the crossbow so it was still trained on his face.

"So you're a bow-man," he said sarcastically, pushing his silver hair back with a grubby hand, the gesture almost debonair, "I respect that, even when it's a piece of tail callin' the shots, quite literally..." His voice trailed off as he studied her again, something akin to lust flickering behind his eyes, making Beth's flesh crawl. "Now, see a person with a rifle," he continued, edging forwards, driving her back, her ankle nearly turning under her, "they could have been some kind of photographer or soccer coach back in the day, but a bow-man is a bow-man through and through... Or a bow-woman in your case," he amended, sweeping her an ironic bow.

Beth gritted her teeth, forcing herself to hold on, to keep holding her ground.

"What you got there? A 150 pound draw-weight?" the man asked. "I'll be donkey-licked if that thing don't fire at least 300 hundred feet per second. I've been lookin' for a weapon like that... Course I'd want one with a bit more ammo in it - although I'm not complainin' about the lil blonde that comes free with the crossbow like some insane Happy Meal," he said to the man with the bow behind her, the pair of them laughing at his lame wit. Then silence fell, the tension being ratcheted up a notch as it became clear Beth wasn't backing down.

"Look at how red they pretty blue eyes of hers are," one of the men taunted, changing tack, "she's been cryin' so she has."

"Get yourself into some trouble, lil lady?" the man with the bow leered, Beth ignoring him, keeping her focus on the man in front of her.

"Back off, Len," the man said before turning his attention back to Beth, "look, if you let loose one of those bolts, these boys are gonna drop you several times over. Is that what you want?"

Beth just stared at him, shifting awkwardly on the spot, her ankle threatening to give way at any moment now.

"Don't be stupid, sweetheart," the man said, lowering his voice so it was nothing more than an intimate growl, "why hurt yourself, when you can hurt other people?"

"I ain't stupid," Beth said, struggling to keep her voice steady.

The man looked her up and down again, his gaze lingering on her pale face the longest. "M'name's Joe," the man then said, his gun-metal grey eyes boring into hers.

"Beth," she said, lowering the crossbow, no longer holding on, holding her ground. She was freefalling. She was surviving.


	3. Darkness Was My Future

**Darkness Was My Future**

_Darkness was my future_  
><em>Hopeless were the patterns<em>  
><em>Callous was my heart, so it seems<em>

_Oh, I should sing a little bit faster_  
><em>I'm to blame for this disaster<em>  
><em>I, I'm repairing my heart for you, you<em>  
><em>Oh, and I should breathe a little bit softer<em>  
><em>Oxygen reminds me I lost her<em>  
><em>I, I'm repairing my heart for you, you<em>

_Can't believe she's gone, I..._  
><em>Folded on the creases<em>  
><em>Tore myself to pieces now<em>

Daryl collapsed onto the edge of the mattress, the world tilting on its axis. Beth was gone. He was alone, at the mercy of strangers. The man and woman stood over him, bandying words about like _concussion_ and _bed rest_, their voices drilling into his skull.

"He can't be that concussed if he's capable of throwing furniture around," the woman said, sounding pissed off.

"I'm just saying you should let him recover a bit before putting him to work," the bespectacled man replied.

"You're the one that said you needed more muscle around here to help with the heavy lifting, somebody practical," the woman said dangerously, "that's the only reason why we saved him, because he can contribute. He _owes_ us."

"I know," the bespectacled man said more meekly this time. "He's just not going to be much use around the place if he's half dead on his feet."

The woman scoffed, before turning on her heel and leaving, slamming the door behind her. Footsteps drew near Daryl, making him rear back, the bespectacled man holding his hands up as though in surrender.

"It's alright," he said, exasperated, "I just want to check you over. I'm a doctor, it's my duty."

"I ain't concussed," Daryl snarled.

"I know."

"Then why you lyin'?"

"To cut you a break," the doctor said, taking out a small torch from his shirt pocket and shining it into Daryl's eyes, making him blink. "And to give you a word of warning."

Daryl stiffened, his brows drawing together.

"You're here for a reason," the doctor said, "because I require someone like you to help around the hospital, shifting furniture and heavy loads, lifting patients and disposing of those we can't save. To keep things running smoothly around here, we all have to play our part - we all have to contribute. Your attitude problem won't be welcome here, so I suggest you lose it, and you lose it now."

To the doctor's confusion, Daryl laughed incredulously at this.

"What's so amusing?" the doctor asked, perplexed and not a little annoyed. "We're all working for the greater good."

"What greater good? You just want me to do your dirty work for you - to carry you cos you ain't fit enough for the job," Daryl snapped, cutting through the shit, straight to the point. "You're scared that cop's gonna turf you out of this hell-hole cos you can't so called contribute."

The doctor's eyes widened behind his glasses, his face paling at Daryl's succinct summing up of the situation. But his surprise was nothing new to Daryl. Before the world ended, people had tended to treat him like he was thick because he was sullen and silent, rough and ready, always looking like he was gagging for a brawl and a beer. Life had never allowed him the luxury of book-learning. But behind the rough facade was a sharp mind, and even sharper wits. In two ticks, he'd worked out what was driving the doctor, a dirty desire to save his own ass, even if it meant exploiting Daryl to do it.

"Don't try an' pull the wool over my eyes, sunshine," Daryl said tiredly, "I is too long in the tooth to be kidded on by your pretty lies 'bout contributin' an' shit. You just tryin' to cover your own ass like the rest of us."

"If you want to cover _your_ 'ass', keep that thing you call a mouth closed," the doctor retorted, before turning and leaving, barging past a tall, lanky youth in blue scrubs.

Daryl raised his head, eyeballing the newcomer, who eyeballed him back, before gesturing with his thumb to the doorway. "You giving Dr. Edwards some gyp?" the youth asked, his voice low, like he didn't want to be heard.

"Bastard told me to keep my trap shut," Daryl growled, "an' I don't see why I should."

"Because if you want to survive in here, you better," the youth said.

* * *

><p>Daryl followed Noah along the corridor, scratching the back of his neck where the cheap fabric of his blue scrubs was irritating his skin. His own clothes were gone to God knew where, his boots replaced by ridiculous sandshoes. It was all done to strip individuals of their identity, to make them blend into one amalgamous entity. Now he was part of the system, another cog in the machine - or so Noah said.<p>

The cop - Dawn Lerner, also according to Noah - had ordered Noah to show Daryl the ropes, and the first lesson had been to clear up the mess in Daryl's room, clearing it of the pile of broken wood that had been the bedside cabinet, picking up screws and splinters. Whilst they'd worked, Noah had given Daryl some background information on the hospital, a generic rundown on what the score was. Of himself he said nothing. But he warned Daryl again to shut his mouth and keep his head down. Now Noah was taking Daryl around with him while he did his duties, showing him where everything was, what would be expected of him.

"I know what I've to do," Daryl said irritably, "but I ain't doin' it, man."

Noah abruptly stopped, his face becoming angry as he shoved it into Daryl's, who stood his ground, jaw tightening. "What did I say, redneck?" Noah hissed. "If you want to live, you keep quiet, you do your work."

"I have to get out of here," Daryl hissed back, "there's a girl I have to get back to on the outside, an' I ain't gonna waste my time bein' some doctor's bitch, carryin' shit around for him like I'm some sort of handmaid."

Noah just shook his head."You blend in. You bide your time," Noah whispered, his eyes bulging. "You _wait_."

Daryl took a step back, brow furrowing.

"What's going on here?" a voice asked from behind them, making Noah straighten up, his face becoming a bland mask.

"I'm just instructing Daryl on his duties, sir," Noah said politely.

The cop just sneered. "My DVD player needs charging," he spat. "Get to it or there'll be trouble."

"Certainly, sir," Noah said, bowing his head.

The cop scoffed, before striding off down the hall, barging Daryl out of the way, knocking him into the wall, setting the spark to the fuse. But as Daryl lunged at the cop's retreating back, Noah halted him, grabbing him by the wrist, yanking him back.

"That girl on the outside you're talking about?" Noah whispered again, forcing Daryl to face him. "The only way you're going to get back to her is in a body bag, feet first, and I doubt they'd even give you that. _You have to bide your time. _"

"I don't have _time_."

"In here, that's all you have," Noah said coldly, letting him go of his arm.

"I have Beth," Daryl said quietly, turning away.

_Peace my body, oh, my soul_  
><em>to find, no I don't mind<em>  
><em>Break my hardened heart to show<em>  
><em>that I, yea I was blind<em>  
><em>Lay my body on the shore<em>  
><em>to find, no, I don't mind<em>  
><em>I, I don't mind<em>

_Can't believe she's gone_  
><em>I'm casting out the demons<em>  
><em>Letting go of reasons why<em>

_But blessed was the daylight_  
><em>Flooded my hearts windows<em>  
><em>And cleared the smoke that billows out<em>

_Welcome was the daylight_  
><em>Found where I was hiding<em>  
><em>Fought the dark residing there...<em>


	4. The Same Sky

**The Same Sky**

Joe fell into step beside Beth, a wolfish smile spreading across his features, making her wonder all over again at what she had done in agreeing to join his company. But then again, what else could she have done? She was alone and outnumbered six to one. The instinct that had led her to lower the crossbow, was the same one that had led her to join Joe's group. She needed to buy time for herself, so she could get away and continue her search for Daryl and the others. So she'd agreed to Joe's offer, knowing she was playing with fire as she did so.

"You know, I know you ain't a bow-man," Joe said in an undertone, startling her. "An' I know that ain't your crossbow neither. A 150 pound draw-weight? No chance in hell would a lil thing like you be able to handle somethin' like that."

Beth didn't say anything, staring at the dappled light striking the leaf-strewn ground instead.

"Don't worry though, it'll be our little secret," Joe winked, making her feel sick to the stomach.

Beth forced herself to smile at him, a smile that didn't reach her eyes. But her simper seemed to satisfy Joe, who nodded, chucking her under her chin before striding ahead, squaring his shoulders as he went, hatred filling Beth's heart as she watched him go.

* * *

><p><em>Two hours later<em>

"She's slowin' us down, Joe," Len hissed, throwing Beth a filthy look. Any appeal she held for him was being eroded by her general uselessness. If Joe wasn't going to share, Len didn't see the point in keeping her alive. She was deadweight, and they always ditched deadweight. It was how they'd made it so far, survival of the fittest and all that shit.

"Shut your trap," Joe said as the others slowed down to a halt. "Where's your sense of chivalry, eh?"

Len held his tongue, not wanting another beating. The last one had happened up at Macon, after he'd dared to pass judgement on Joe's new shirt, a fabric monstrosity embroidered with grinning skulls and crimson roses, some sort of sartorial tribute to the El Día de los Muertos.

"We'll stop here for the night," Joe then said, looking round them all, almost challenging them to oppose him. But they just nodded, setting their bags and weapons on the ground. Joe turned away from them, his attention returning to Beth again, his gaze lingering on her pale face, his scrutiny making her shift awkwardly on the spot.

Joe smiled to himself, enjoying her discomfort. It was rare to find innocence out on the road; that unspoiled freshness that was of the old world, and not the new. She hadn't been tainted, tarnished. That's why he was protecting her from the others, claiming her as his own. She was his to destroy, no one else's, and he'd take great pleasure in the breaking. But not yet. He liked to play with his food before eating it.

"Y'alright, sweetheart?" he asked her, feigning concern.

"It's... it's just my ankle," Beth said unwillingly.

"Didcha sprain it or somethin'?"

"I think so."

"Well, a good night's rest will do the trick," he said, sitting down on the ground, letting his men do the legwork of setting up camp.

Beth just stared at him, swallowing hard. She'd rapidly assessed Joe was the leader; that it was important to humour him, as to earn his disfavour would be disastrous. But she also knew she was walking a dangerous tightrope. Joe was just toying with her like a cat did with a mouse before the kill. She interested and intrigued him, so he shielded her from the others, hoarding her to himself. But when he'd grow bored with playing games, he would strike, leaving what was left of her for the others to scrap over.

"Sit down, sweetheart," he said, patting the ground beside him. "Doctor's orders."

Biting her lip, Beth limped over to him, setting the crossbow down between them, before finally deigning to sit down.

"There, that wasn't so hard was it?" Joe said, scratching his bristly chin.

Beth shook her head, forcing a smile.

"So, tell me somethin' about yourself, Beth," Joe said, coughing harshly.

"There's nothin' to say," Beth tried to say lightly, "I'm actually really... borin'." She winced at how hokey that sounded.

"Well, who were you with before we met you?" Joe pressed. "Did the crossbow belong to your boyfriend?"

Beth blushed hotly, shaking her head vehemently. After they'd burned the house down, something had sprung up between her and Daryl, a strange bond of sorts, something that went beyond what Joe was implying, something that had been consecrated in that candle-lit moment in the kitchen of the funeral home, when Daryl had just looked at her, his silence saying what words couldn't.

"I sing," Beth said in a rush, trying to close the door on the painful past.

"You sing?" Joe said, raising his eyebrows.

Beth nodded, biting her lip again.

"You hear that, boys?" Joe called to the others. "We found ourselves a lil songbird!"

"Give us a number, then," Len heckled. "Maybe a lil dance-routine as well, so we can get our money's worth."

"That's enough," Joe said, making Len fall silent. He turned back to Beth, studying her for a moment before leaning over and tucking a tendril of blonde hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her skin, lingering too long. "Well, go on an' sing us a song," he said gently, the softness of his voice sitting at odds with the avaricious expression in his eyes.

"What about the Walkers?" Beth said, stalling.

"We're here," Joe said, "we'll keep you safe, don't worry."

The very thought of _them _keeping her safe made Beth's blood run cold. But she forced herself to focus, before clearing her throat and straightening her spine, the proud tilt of her ponytailed head making Joe's heart speed up and his palms sweat at the prospect of corrupting such purity. This was what made life on the road so worthwhile, you never knew what would cross your path next.

Beth glanced upwards, thinking of Daryl and her family, that wherever he and they were, they shared the same sky; that no matter what happened, nothing could take that away from them. Then she began to sing.

_It's so black_  
><em>Your kingdom's turned me black<em>  
><em>I'm paper and I'm snow<em>  
><em>I'm yours but I go slow<em>  
><em>I'm lost but not alone<em>  
><em>It's so light<em>  
><em>The dark burns my eyes<em>  
><em>My bones they used to glow<em>  
><em>But now I'm throwing stones<em>  
><em>I'm losing where to go?<em>  
><em>Shadows on my back<em>  
><em>Are moving slow<em>  
><em>They twist behind like white leaves in the wind<em>  
><em>And as I ride these horses will take flight<em>  
><em>Falling high, falling high, do you love?<em>  
><em>Shadows in my head<em>  
><em>Don't need no light<em>  
><em>They still through the night<em>

_I found you_  
><em>My lips are turning blue<em>  
><em>The water pulls me down<em>  
><em>I'm drown under your sound<em>  
><em>This silence brings alive<em>  
><em>I look up, your kingdom's like a drug<em>  
><em>The chains are made of glass<em>  
><em>I'm breaking through the glass<em>  
><em>Our memory is not enough<em>

_Shadows on my back_  
><em>Are moving slow<em>  
><em>They twist behind like white leaves in the wind<em>  
><em>And as I ride these horses will take flight<em>  
><em>Falling high, falling high, do you love?<em>  
><em>Shadows in my head<em>  
><em>Don't need no light<em>  
><em>They still through the night<em>

_To every rose with bloody thorn_  
><em>It lift you up, and lets you fall<em>  
><em>To rivers flowing under factory holes<em>  
><em>Your kingdom's coming, it's waiting still<em>  
><em>This space between you'll never fill<em>  
><em>I tried but I could not change your mind<em>

_I dance around, and I, lost you now_  
><em>I breathe you out<em>  
><em>I gets you out<em>  
><em>But if I could I'd turn back around<em>


	5. When The Wolf Comes Home

**When The Wolf Comes Home **

_There's bound to be a ghost_  
><em>At the back of your closet<em>  
><em>No matter where you live<em>  
><em>There'll always be a few things<em>  
><em>Maybe several things<em>  
><em>That you're gonna find really difficult to forgive...<em>

Daryl closed the door to the hutch, before stooping down and studying the gerbils scurrying over the clean straw he'd lain down for them. They seemed pretty happy inside their prison, he thought ruefully, wishing he could feel the same. It would make things easier for him if he did. He was feeling like a volcano about to explode, especially after spending the rest of the day holding his tongue and keeping his head down, trying to avoid meeting anybody's eyes. It had been an effort and a half. But the sense of Noah's words had percolated through, and he'd kept a low profile, not wanting to rock the boat any further than he had already.

After showing Daryl around the rest of the limited confines of the hospital, and outlining what else would probably be expected of him, Noah had left him to wash up a pile of plates before coming back and thrusting a mop and bucket into his hands, telling him to clear up a spillage in some Percy's room. After Daryl had finished cleaning up, he'd gone looking for Noah, but the boy had disappeared into thin air, leaving Daryl at a loose end. He'd stowed the mop and bucket away in a closet, before stalking the corridors, only to run into a flustered Dr. Edwards. The doctor had reeled off a list of menial tasks for Daryl to complete, before disappearing through the doorway opposite, leaving Daryl with the impression the doctor just wanted him out of his hair.

This had suited Daryl down to the ground though. He'd gotten on with his work, burying his pain in the prosaic, trying not to think about where he was or what had happened. Nobody had bothered him, so he hadn't bothered anybody either. So maybe he could make this work until he figured out a way to get the hell out of the hospital. He straightened up, trying not to think how much Beth would have liked the gerbils; knowing her weakness for anything furry and four-legged, she would have gone googly-eyed over them like she had over the dog at the funeral home.

"I didn't take you for an animal-lover," a voice said behind him, making Daryl do an abrupt about-turn. It was the female cop from before, Dawn or something, the one that had looked at him like he was a dangerous insect she'd like to squash, her stare lingering too long on his face for his taste.

"Dr. Feelgood told me to clean out their hutches, so I did," he said slowly, trying to keep cool.

"I would appreciate it if you referred to my staff by their correct titles," Dawn said, taking a step forwards, fingers resting lightly on her gun belt, making her move like a cowboy from a film.

"Fine," Daryl drawled, shrugging his shoulders.

Dawn just nodded, studying him for a long moment. Daryl narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out her game-plan. Something flickered behind her green gaze, something he couldn't decipher. She then jerked her head at the door behind, face becoming almost friendly.

"My officers say you're a good worker, a hard worker," she said, "I'm surprised, considering..." Her gaze flickered over his unkempt face, the shaggy hair.

Daryl just shrugged his shoulders again.

"You've had an easy time of it today," she said, taking another step forwards, "but that all ends tomorrow. We all have to contribute and you owe us."

"So you keep sayin'," Daryl said before he could stop himself.

Dawn just raised her eyebrows.

"Sorry," Daryl muttered, the memory of Beth's face and Noah's words filtering through his thoughts, forcing him to keep his temper under control, even if it didn't stop him from clenching his fists by his side.

"Now you're learning," Dawn said coldly, before turning and leaving the room.

* * *

><p>Daryl stood at the edge of the rooftop, looking down at the car-park below where several Walkers shambled about amongst the vehicles and tattered tents. For one dark moment, he realised how easy it would be to end it all. He just had to step forwards... He took a step back, shaking his head to himself. One day in here and he was going stir-crazy. But then again, he'd never been any good at being cooped up. He'd lived a nomadic kind of life with Merle, on the road, moving from place to place, not putting down any roots. But just because he'd lived that way didn't mean he'd liked it. Remaining with Rick and the others back at the beginning had been the start of him striking out on his own and on his own terms. He'd hung around because he'd wanted to, not because of Merle or anyone else, but off his own bat.<p>

But this was different. He'd been taken from Beth, from all he'd had left, and for what? So he could become somebody's bitch in some megalomaniac's idea of a new society? All he'd seen so far was a bunch of cops too lazy to wipe their own asses, taking advantage of the weak and their fear of the world outside. Noah seemed to have something up his sleeve, but Daryl hadn't wanted to push it, sensing it was too late in the game to try and get the boy onside. His display of temper had obviously rattled Noah's cage, spooking him. And Daryl knew trying to find support amongst the others would be just as pointless. They might hate their life in here but they clung to it nonetheless, believing it better than taking a chance out there on the unknown.

Turning to head back inside, Daryl froze. Ears pricking, he turned on the spot, scanning his surroundings before creeping over to one of the air-conditioning units, sensing somebody or something was hiding behind it. Rounding the corner, he pulled back his fist, ready for fight or flight, only to freeze again at the sight of an old man hunched over away from him, hastily stuffing something into his mouth. For a moment, Daryl thought it was a Walker, but when the old man turned around, he realised with some relief it was just one of what the cops called wards. The old man stared at him, eyes widening with terror, his white whiskers reminding Daryl of Hershel, the memory like a kick to the head. Daryl lowered his fist, noting the red stains around the old man's lips.

"You been stealin' strawberries?" Daryl said gruffly.

The old man nodded, too terrorstricken to do anything else.

"Wait up," Daryl said, going over to where the strawberries and other produce was being grown on the trellises and supports lining the roof, before kneeling down and picking a good handful. He went back over where the old man was hiding, before shoving the fruit into his shaking palm. "Here," Daryl said abruptly, "they don't seem to feed you's much." The old man just stared at him again, before cramming the strawberries into his mouth with a despair that tore at Daryl's already flayed heart. Then he turned and left, knowing that it was open war now.

* * *

><p>Daryl lay on his bed, staring up the ceiling, arm flung over his head. He was regretting helping the old man, sensing something was going to go down over it. This was supposed to be about getting back to Beth and the others, not bringing down somebody's idea of an empire. This wasn't his war. But at the same time, he couldn't walk away from this, from the injustice. Beth had said there was still good people out there, but so far he hadn't come across any here. They were either bad or indifferent or oppressed -<p>

"Get up!"

Before Daryl couldn't even compute what was happening, two officers were dragging him out of his bed and into the corridor, flinging him against the wall. As he straightened up, shaggy hair falling into his eyes, rage flooding his veins, he saw the same scene was being repeated over and over again, the wards being dragged out of their rooms and flung into the corridor. The click of heels made him turn around, the cowering wards doing the same as Dawn descended on them, flanked by Gorman and O'Donnell.

"There's been a theft," Dawn said abruptly as she faced them all, not bothering to elaborate or explain any further. "Who did it?"

Silence.

"Fine, you'll _all_ be punished for this," she said, turning to leave, signalling Gorman and O'Donnell to round up the wards.

"It was me," Daryl said, stepping forwards.

Dawn turned around, the movement deliberate and slow. She studied Daryl for a long moment and he knew that she knew he was deceiving her. "My office, _now_," she said quietly, her voice barely audible.

"Yes, ma'am," Daryl drawled, saluting her. If he was going down, he was going down Dixon style.

_I'm gonna get myself in fighting trim_  
><em>Scope out every angle<em>  
><em>Of unfair advantage<em>  
><em>I'm gonna bribe the officials<em>  
><em>I'm gonna kill all the judges<em>  
><em>It's gonna take you people years<em>  
><em>To recover from all of the damage...<em>


	6. Not Another Dead Girl

**Not Another Dead Girl **

_And it finds me_  
><em>The war within me pulls me under<em>  
><em>And without you<em>  
><em>The fight inside is breaking me again<em>

Beth's eyes flickered open, blue upon blue, a girl confronting the heavens. For a long moment, she didn't know where she was, expecting to see ceiling instead of sky. Then the past came back to claim her, making her remember. She shifted awkwardly onto her side, only to freeze as Joe grunted in protest. Glancing downwards, she saw his arm slung across her waist, staking his territory. With the bile rising in her throat, she wriggled out of his hold, only for him to grab her thigh, making her freeze.

"Where d'ya think you're goin', lil lady?" Joe said, suddenly wide awake.

"I was just gonna get some breakfast," Beth said innocently, widening her eyes for extra emphasis.

Joe's gaze travelled over her fairy-like features, not seeing the threat behind them, her long blonde hair and high-pitched voice lulling him into a false sense of security. He grinned lazily at her, his gaze then travelling over the rest of her, lingering too long. "An' how is a lil thin' like you gonna get us some grub out in this wilderness?" he said, coughing harshly into his filthy hand, tightening his hold on her thigh with the other.

"I was gonna set a snare," Beth said without thinking, concentrating more on tilting her head to the side, trying to look empty-headed and appealing. "Maybe catch a rabbit or two."

"What, you know how to hunt?" Joe said, sitting up.

"I only know how set snares," Beth said, hastily backtracking. "My daddy taught me."

"What about skinnin' an' cookin' the critters?"

Beth shook her head mutely.

"I guess a soft-hearted creature such as yourself can't handle the sight of blood," Joe said, eying her again.

Beth nodded, biting her lip.

"If you set some snares, we'll see what you catch, an' I'll get one of the boys to do the dirty work," Joe said, flopping back down on the ground again. "Don't wanna ruin them pretty lil paws of yours. I've got a much better use planned for them." He winked at her, nearly making her throw up, but she forced herself to simper and blush, ducking her head shyly, unaware of Len watching her, seeing through her act.

* * *

><p>Beth crept through the trees, trying to put as much distance between herself and the camp as possible. Joe had made her leave the crossbow and her gun behind, saying if she needed help, all she had to do was shout. It wasn't as if she was going miles out, only nearby, and anyways, she didn't want to go around lugging a crossbow she could only fire once or shooting guns that would only bring more of the dead ones down on them. But she knew it was really in case she tried to do a runner, because that was exactly what she was contemplating on doing. But her busted ankle and weaponless state were making her hesitate. All she had was the knife hidden in her cowboy boot, literally her secret weapon.<p>

Just as she was deliberating over whether to brazen it out for another day or so, a branch snapped behind Beth, making her whirl around, her ankle nearly going out from under her. But it was only Len, his face unreadable, his bow slung over one shoulder. Beth swallowed hard, sensing he wasn't here to make small talk. In fact, she would have preferred a Walker to Len.

"You ain't gonna get very far with that ankle, Blondie," Len said quietly, leaning against a tree-trunk, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about," Beth said, tilting her chin.

"You think just cos you can hoodwink Joe by battin' those baby blues at him, you can do the same to the rest of us. But we ain't as blinded by our own ego as he is. He can barely see two feet in front of him. All he sees is himself. But we can see alright, an' I see _you_," Len said coldly.

"I'm just tryin' to catch us some food."

"A piece of tail tryin' to catch a bob-tail," Len sneered, straightening up. "There's somethin' poetic about the idea. Maybe even some poetic justice cos I'm catchin' _you_. Makes sense since I'm higher up the food chain than you are, lil lady."

"That's bull-shit," Beth snapped. "You might look at me an' see another dead girl, but I made it, just like you, because I'm just as strong."

Len laughed outright at this.

"An' anyways, I wouldn't underestimate Joe," Beth said, tightening her lips, "he ain't as blind as you think he is. He knows I can't leave cos of my ankle - I ain't gonna get far with it, as you so correctly pointed out. But as an extra precaution, he also took my weapons from me. So I ain't goin' anywhere, _sunshine_, so you might as well take a hike."

"I came out here to hunt."

"Hunt what exactly, me or the local wildlife?"

"You gotta a tongue on you, Blondie," Len snarled, advancing on her. "You need someone to teach you how to use it properly though."

Beth just looked at him, trying to stare him down. But underneath the bravado, her heart was hammering in her chest. Yet at the same time, there was a sense of relief pervading through her, almost cleansing her. The storm was about to finally strike. No more waiting, no more evading, no more pretending. She actually preferred Len's outright attack to Joe's sugarcoated stealth. At least with Len, she could meet fire with fire.

"You know, it's usually the lil ones that don't last too long out here," Len said, circling her, running his filthy hand over his straggly beard thoughtfully. "So I'm surprised you've... _made it_, as you put it. But thin's can change, Blondie, they change all the time..."

Beth bit her lip, choking down the instinct to turn and run. If she ran, he'd just shoot her down, either by gun or bow. She had to use her brain if she didn't want a bullet or bolt in her back.

"Now, we can do this the hard way or the easy way," Len said, slowing to a stop before her, his eyes boring into hers. "What's it gonna be?"

"The easy way," Beth whispered, involuntarily taking a step back.

"Don't be shy, sugar," he cajoled, tilting her chin upwards. "You is mine - _I_ claimed you first, not Joe." As his hands started to fumble with her clothes, Beth closed her eyes, taking slow shallow breaths. It was about timing, about striking at the right moment... Her eyes flew open as he buried his face in her neck, murmuring something incomprehensible and that's when she struck, snatching an arrow from his quiver and stabbing him through the side of the head with it.

_And it finds me_  
><em>The fight inside is coursing through my veins<em>  
><em>And it's raging<em>  
><em>The fight inside is breaking me again<em>


	7. Falling Inside The Black

**Falling Inside The Black**

"Couple of them were out on a run a week ago," Dr. Edwards said over his shoulder to Daryl as he led him into the patient's room, "found two boxes of Bisquick at a truck-stop, and then this gentleman under a bridge," he said, gesturing at the unconscious man lying on the bed with a flippant hand. "Cardiac arrest, severe dehydration..."

Daryl looked around the room, not really listening, eyes narrowing at the sight of the hospital equipment hooked up to a trolley piled high with car batteries. They were keeping some lost soul alive, but for what? To be exploited, abused and beaten? Unconsciously, he raised his hand to his battered face, wincing against his will. Whatever Dawn was, she was thorough, and she was inventive.

She'd given him a good going-over with a wooden picture frame polished to within an inch of its life. Another had stood atop a filing cabinet in the corner, enshrining a picture of her accepting some kind of award. He wondered if it was for being such a bastard. Yet whilst she'd been thorough, she'd also been careful, striking him hard enough to bust his face, but not enough to break it.

After she'd finished, Daryl had just stood there and laughed at her. He'd laughed long and hard, her face paling in the face of his humourless mirth. He'd been beaten with much worse than a picture-frame. Hell, he'd suffered more than anything she could fling at him. She'd already done her worst in taking all he had left from him, cutting him adrift from the only anchor in his life. He'd lost Beth through the bitch. She couldn't hurt him anymore than she already had.

"Don't touch those stitches," Dr. Edwards admonished, startling him out of his thoughts, his harsh voice cutting through the hypnotic beep of the hospital machines. "You'll burst them open, and I'll have to sew them up again."

"You're hardly gonna sing them shut, are you?" Daryl said gruffly, shifting awkwardly on the spot.

"See, that's precisely what got you into this mess in the first place," Dr. Edwards said, voice shaking. "That attitude problem of yours is - is going to end your life, and I'm being serious here. If you can't - if you _won't_ contribute, that's it. You're expendable."

"It was _you _that got me into this mess," Daryl said, "you requested muscle, an' that bitch brought me in."

Dr. Edwards just looked at him, jaw tightening. Then he turned and switched one of the machines off, the hiss of the pump deflating to a standstill making Daryl spring forwards.

"Wait up!" he exclaimed. "What the hell are ya doin'!?"

"If patients don't show any signs of improvement," Dr. Edwards said coldly, "well, doc calls it." He lifted down a tray of implements, before removing one and stabbing it through the head of his patient, Daryl looking away, his stomach turning.

* * *

><p>Daryl wheeled the hospital trolley down the corridor, Dr. Edwards leading the way, the tails of his white medical coat flapping behind him. They passed Dawn, who was speaking to a cop with a clipboard, her head turning at the sound of the wheels squeaking across the ground. Her gaze crashed into Daryl's, her eyes narrowing as his narrowed in return, before shifting her attention to the doctor, cross-examining him over the dead patient. Daryl swung the hospital trolley to a halt, before leaning against the wall, the cop with the clipboard raising his eyebrows. Daryl just looked at him, the cop dropping his gaze back to the ground.<p>

"Come on," Dawn said, barging past Daryl, "body's getting cold."

Daryl resumed pushing the hospital trolley, following Dawn and the doctor down the rest of the corridor. They went past doors that were closed on their faces, before bypassing Noah who was mopping the floor, the youth keeping his head down, refusing to make eye contact with Daryl. Dawn led them to a set of locked doors, before stopping, pulling out a key from her pocket and opening them.

The doctor led the way to a set of elevator doors shunted wide open, gesturing to Daryl to come over. Getting an inkling of what was about to go down, Daryl slowly wheeled the hospital trolley over, before slowing to a stop. The doctor leant over, undoing the straps that held the corpse in place, then he stepped back, Daryl stepping forwards, tipping the hospital trolley forwards at the same time. The two men watched as the body hurtled headfirst down the lift shaft, an ignominious end for an ignominious stranger, an end that awaited them all.

* * *

><p>Daryl went into the canteen, two wards turning and leaving as soon as he set foot inside. He watched them go, eyes narrowing as they ducked their heads, refusing to meet his gaze. He'd just covered for one of their own; the least they could do was show some solidarity. But he knew that would never happen. They might steal and silently rebel, but they'd never outright challenge those who oppressed them. As he approached the counter, shaking his head to himself at their hypocrisy and the limited food on offer, an officer came over to him, clutching yet another goddamn clipboard.<p>

"I see Dawn gave you some of her special treatment," the officer drawled, making Daryl glance up at him, brow furrowing as he tried to place the guy's fat, smirking face. "If I didn't know better, I'd say she's got her eye on you and those biceps of yours."

"You's Gorman, ain't ya?" Daryl says, lifting a tray off the rack.

"Officer Gorman to you, redneck," Gorman snapped, face turning puce.

Daryl just turned his back on him, picking up a plate. Gorman had been there last night, ready to manhandle the wards into position for punishment. Before that though, he'd seen Gorman around, hanging about the corridors with a lollipop sticking out of the side of his mouth, making double entendres, setting everyone even further on edge than they were already.

"I wouldn't help myself to so much of that rice if I were you," Gorman said, making Daryl turn around. "Not unless you want me to write down everything you're taking."

Daryl laid down the ladle, before turning and stalking out of the canteen.

* * *

><p>Daryl strode down the corridor, fists curled into balls by his side, stomach rumbling. He slowed to a halt, caught by the sound of Dawn's monotone voice. "We'll find Joan, but until then, you've got laundry duty and I want my uniform washed separately and pressed" -<p>

- "I know," Noah intoned back, cutting across her.

Daryl shook his head to himself again, before going into his room, slamming the door shut behind him. He leaned his head against the wall, trying to keep his temper, trying to see past this moment. He had to get out of here, no more pissing about -

"Dixon!"

Cursing under his breath, he stormed back into the corridor again, Dr. Edwards's face clouding over at the sight of Daryl's surly one. He beckoned Daryl over, before hurrying into the room opposite, Daryl following him. Two officers were wrestling with a hospital trolley, struggling to get it near enough the machines. Daryl intervened, shoving it into position, the officers stepping back as Dr. Edwards started examining the unconscious man, Dawn hurrying into the room as he pulled out his stethoscope.

"So we got a new one?" Dawn gasped, out of breath, making the obvious obvious.

"Found his wallet," O'Donnell said, "his name's Gordon Trevitt."

"Fell from a first floor apartment trying to get away from some rotters," Shepherd explained as O'Donnell barged past her.

"He's lost a lot of blood," Dr. Edwards said, stowing his stethoscope away, "and his vitals are dropping. I don't think he's going to make it."

Dawn stared at Dr. Edwards, face aghast, her reaction surprising Daryl.

"We've already given him" -

- "I got this," Dawn snapped, cutting across O'Donnell, halting him with her hand. "You said you wanted to save people, so save him," she fired at Dr. Edwards as she marched over to him, knocking Daryl aside with her elbow.

"I don't even know the extent of his injuries," Dr. Edwards protested.

Dawn just stared at him, her eyes boring into his.

"Look," he then said, gesturing to Trevitt, "this one's a loser. You said you didn't want me wasting resources" -

- "Well, today, I want you to try," Dawn said, hands on her hips.

"Okay," said after a long pause, turning to Daryl as he spoke, "Dixon, plug the EKG and the ultrasound into that battery pack..."

Daryl glanced down at the ground, seeing several different spark plugs without having a clue about which ones the doctor was talking about. He just didn't get the jargon. The language he spoke was of blood and sweat, of the woods and the sky, of reading the written word of nature.

Dr. Edwards looked at him, confused."I just said plug those in," he said slowly.

"I don't get what you're sayin', man," Daryl said uneasily. "EKG just sounds like KFC to me" -

The back of his head collided with concrete as Dawn's hand connected with his face. He reeled sideways, stunned at the strength behind the blow, not realising she was capable of that kind of power.

"Get the hell out of here," Dawn said, enunciating every word.

She didn't need to say it twice. But as he left the room, clutching his freshly bleeding face, he wondered darkly how somebody could get the hell out of hell.

_Falling in the black_  
><em>Slipping through the cracks<em>  
><em>Falling to the depths can I ever go back<em>  
><em>Dreaming of the way it used to be<em>  
><em>Can you hear me?<em>

_You were my source of strength_  
><em>I've traded everything<em>  
><em>That I love for this one thing<em>  
><em>(Stranded in the offering)<em>  
><em>Don't leave me here like this<em>  
><em>Can't hear me scream from the abyss...<em>


	8. Into The Shadows

**Into The Shadows**

Beth limped on, head spinning, panic threatening to overwhelm her. After attacking Len, she'd stripped his body of anything useful, taking his knapsack filled with supplies, as well as his weapons, a knife and gun, along with some ammunition. As for the bow, she'd left it where it lay, not seeing the point of taking it since she didn't have the strength to fire it. But in fleeing, she'd been forced to leave Daryl's crossbow behind, the price she'd unwillingly paid for her freedom.

Slumping against a tree, she tried to catch her breath, glancing behind her for any sign of Joe and the others. She'd been on the move for a good hour or more, never stopping except for a few seconds, before once again zigzagging manically through the trees and dirt-roads, trying and failing not to leave a trail. All thoughts of finding Daryl and the others kept colliding with her almost insane desire to put distance between her and those undoubtedly hunting her down.

Beth buried her face in her filthy hands, trying to hold it together. She'd just killed a man, his blood staining her skin. And now she was running blind, with no idea where she was or where she was heading. When the prison had been attacked, she'd defended it and herself with bullets, opening fire on those who were threatening everything and everyone she'd held dear, but that had been different. It had almost been impersonal. But now...

She'd coldly and brutally calculated Len's death, the memory of his hands on her making her want to throw up. But it had either been him or her. So she'd made the choice. She'd survived. Not him. _Her. _She wasn't another dead girl, and she wasn't going to be. There were still good people out there, despite those like Len, and despite her upbringing, she fervently believed she'd done a good thing in killing him. Now he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else. What her father would have said about such thoughts, she didn't want to think of it. Her father was of the old world, she was of the new, but perhaps it was possible to hold onto some sacraments even if it meant sacrificing the rest.

Beth raised her head from her hands, staring at the far horizon, her mind clearing. She would make it. She was strong. She would survive. Not for herself, but for Daryl, for her family.

_There's a hate inside of me like some kind of master _  
><em>I tried to save you, but I can't find the answer <em>  
><em>I'm holding onto you, I'll never let go <em>  
><em>I need you with me as I enter the shadows<em>

* * *

><p><em>GLENN GO TO TERMINUS MAGGIE <em>

Beth stood there, feeling like somebody had just stabbed her through the heart. After leaving the shelter of the woods, she'd stumbled across the train-tracks again, remembering almost as though from another life finding them with Daryl. The train-tracks had destroyed any hopes she'd had of finding the children alive, their bodies lying desecrated across the line. But now the train-tracks were all she had. Deciding there and then to follow them, figuring they had to lead somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was away from Joe and the others, she'd set off, shoulders hunched, her leg dragging behind her.

That's when she'd seen the sign, SANCTUARY FOR ALL, COMMUNITY FOR ALL, THOSE WHO ARRIVE, SURVIVE, a map nailed to the post below, giving directions. Hope had sprung up like a flower in her heart, making her set forth again with an even more determined resolve to find Daryl and the others. Maybe they would be there; maybe Terminus was where Daryl had been taken. Her courage refused to face the contradiction such hope held, concentrating instead of making it to Terminus. All she could think of was reaching there, of being reunited with her family. Despite just discovering its existence, it was now the mainspring of her own.

_GLENN GO TO TERMINUS MAGGIE _

Beth took a step back, trying to steady the shaking of her hands. Maggie was alive. She was _alive_. After travelling the train-tracks for another hour or so, she'd come across her sister's message, the sight of it knocking her for six. But even though she was almost delirious with relief her sister had made it, her happiness was tainted by the realization Maggie hadn't believed Beth could make it in turn. She'd addressed her message solely to Glenn, pinning all her hope on finding her husband alive again. She'd given up on Beth, when Beth hadn't given up on her.

She turned away from the message, running the back of her still trembling hand across her eyes. It didn't matter Maggie had gave up on her. _It did. _Beth angrily dashed the tears away, forcing herself to focus. She would reach Terminus. She would show Maggie she'd survived. After that, she had no clear goal in mind apart from finding Daryl again. He was part of her family. She would not give up on him.

* * *

><p>Beth dragged the sofa across the floor, before collapsing against it, her ankle giving way beneath her. Taking short, shallow breaths to curb the scream crawling its way up her windpipe, she lay sprawled across the back of the settee for several long moments, before getting up, continuing her struggle to shift the sofa in front of the door. After what seemed like forever, she finally achieved it, sinking against the wall in relief, surveying her handiwork with bitter satisfaction.<p>

With darkness falling, she'd been forced to seek shelter in one of the nearby houses, breaking in through the back door. She'd taken out three Walkers, a man and two women, stabbing them in the head with the knife she'd taken from her cowboy boot, the exertion exhausting her. Their bodies lay slumped in the kitchen, the back door barely secured by the heavy oaken table Beth had put in front of it.

She'd searched the kitchen for supplies, not wanting to break into Len's stash, but she'd only found a can of tinned fruit standing overlooked in the back of a cupboard, everything else probably pillaged by other survivors. After ensuring the rest of the house was clear, she'd retreated to the living room, blocking the only way in with the sofa, whilst making sure she could easily escape through one of the windows if it came to the worst.

Beth then stood up, gingerly testing to see if she could still put weight on her ankle. Discovering that she could, she limped over to where she'd dumped Len's knapsack on the coffee table, her stomach rumbling painfully with hunger. She pulled the flap back, undoing the drawstring, before rifling through its contents, trying to find the can of soda pop and bag of chips she'd spied earlier. Finding them, she took them out, before limping back over to the sofa and throwing herself down on it. For several minutes, she stuffed herself silly, before debating over whether to save the tinned fruit for later or not.

Deciding she would, she got up and placed it in the knapsack, closing it up again. As she turned to turn in for the night, she froze as the sound of voices drifted in through the half open window, voices she reluctantly recognized. Ducking out of sight behind the curtain, she spied through its gap Joe and the others, the sight of them making her heart speed up in terror. Joe had Daryl's crossbow slung across his shoulder. For several long sickening moments, she watched them talk together, Joe pointing at something in the far distance, something she couldn't see. Then they moved on, Beth slumping against the wall in relief.

They were hunting someone else, not her.

Then Beth straightened up, her heart freezing in her chest. Without a second thought, she half limped, half ran across the room, snatching up the knapsack and slinging it over her shoulder, only hesitating to double-check the gun tucked in her belt and the knife in her boot. And then she was gone, slinging her legs over the window sill, hurtling herself cowboy boots first into the darkness outside.


	9. Empty Corridors

**Empty Corridors**

"That bitch packs a mean punch," Daryl growled as Dr. Edwards stitched up his face again.

"She slapped you."

"She socked me. There's a difference."

"The difference would be holding your tongue," Dr. Edwards said curtly, getting to his feet.

"I wasn't bein' a smartass," Daryl said, brow furrowing. "I didn't know what the hell you was talkin' about. I ain't down with all that medical stuff."

Dr. Edwards just looked at him for a long moment. Then he picked up the plastic pink kidney-shaped dish filled with bloodied tissues, before turning and leaving the room without saying another word. Daryl watched him go before flinging himself down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling for the umpteenth time. He didn't want to see plaster and concrete; he wanted to see open sky and sun. He wanted to see Beth. He wanted to find the others. He wanted his family -

"Dixon!"

"For fuck's sake," Daryl muttered, getting up again. He made his way back into the hall, just in time to see a young woman with wild, curly hair being dragged kicking and cursing by Gorman and O'Donnell into one of the rooms, Dr. Edwards hanging back, wringing his hands. Daryl stood there, shocked. Then he caught himself, realising he might have just found his only ally. Following Dr. Edwards into the room, he watched as the officers and the doctor fought to strap the young woman down, O'Donnell yelling at him to help. Against his will, Daryl made to pin her arms to the bed, before freezing at the terrible sight of a Walker bite on her elbow, nearly decapitating the limb in two.

All of time seemed to slow down, his eyes meeting the young woman's, gun-metal grey crashing into darkness. The fight in her reflected his like a mirror's, and he realised he wasn't alone anymore, that he didn't want to be. He was going to save her. Then he was restraining her, overpowering her, the doctor buckling the straps across her chest and thighs, pinioning her arms to her side -

Dawn burst into the room, her face ashen, making them all turn around. She rushed over to the bed, only to falter at the expression in the young woman's eyes, the hate burning in their brown depths burning her in turn. It was hatred in its purest form, a hatred Daryl was all too familiar with. It was the kind of hatred that had festered in him towards his father, that burning desire to destroy the destroyer, despite being utterly powerless. It was the kind of hatred that lent strength to the weak. The sight of such hatred made Daryl take a step back, but Dawn stood her ground, her gaze boring into the young woman's.

"Whatever you were thinking, Joan, it wasn't worth it," Dawn said from between gritted teeth.

"Screw you," Joan hissed, "and your little bitch as well," she spat, trying and failing to lunge at Gorman.

"You smart-ass whore!" Gorman snapped, Dawn shoving him back, shouting at him to go. Gorman's fleshy face contorted with impotent anger, and then he left the room, glancing over his shoulder at Joan as he went, malevolence battling with something else in his eyes, something darker than rage. It took Daryl to recognize it as lust, a sick, twisted lust that turned his stomach, making the disjointed tableau before him click into place.

He stepped in front Joan's bed, blocking Gorman's view, the officer studying him for a long moment before smirking. Then he was gone, Daryl watching him with narrowed eyes, before turning around, only to find everybody looking at him. He just stared back at them, at those who had allowed this to happen and the girl that it had happened to. Then Dr. Edwards turned around, flicking on one of the machines, a high-pitched _zhwoom_ sound shattering the silence. Daryl moved to the bottom of the bed, his gaze locking with Joan's, before her attention shifted to the doctor, suddenly lashing out at him, trying to boot him in the groin as he attempted to insert a needle in her arm.

"It's anaesthetic," Dr. Edwards shouted, "you need it!"

"Go to hell!" Joan retorted, her back arching as she tried to break free of her bonds.

The doctor took a step back, hesitating.

"Do it," Dawn said to him, eyes blazing in her bloodless face. "She made her choice, and I've made mine."

"Fuck you!"

"I'm not going to let you die!" Dawn bellowed. "We're not going to let you turn!"

"Don't!" Joan screamed as the doctor pulled out a piece of wire, wrapping it around her mangled arm, just above the wound. "Leave it!"

The doctor pulled the wire tight.

"No, no, no - I said, leave me alone!"

"Daryl, her legs!" Dawn ordered, grabbing an ankle, Daryl staring at her, the sound of his name on her lips stunning him. She'd never addressed him by his name before, simply referring to him as 'redneck' or nothing, stripping him of the last of his identity. "Daryl, her leg!" Dawn repeated, forcing him to focus. He grabbed Joan's other ankle, putting the whole of his weight behind it.

"Get off me!" Joan screamed, her body thrashing wildly on the bed as the doctor began the amputation. "I'm not going back to them!"

"You don't have to," Dawn said, her voice cracking.

"You can't control them!"

"I will."

_You won't_, Daryl thought as the blood splattered the walls.

* * *

><p><em>And we fall through empty corridors<em>  
><em>And we talk in useless metaphors<em>  
><em>Yeah we fall through empty corridors<em>  
><em>And we talk in useless metaphors<em>  
><em>And we fall through empty corridors<em>  
><em>And we talk in useless metaphors<em>

Daryl put down the bucket, before getting to his feet. Massaging the back of his neck to get the crick out of it, he cast a guilty glance at the unconscious girl on the bed, the beep of the machines breaking the silence. He'd become complicit in her suffering, helping save her to save himself. She was a fighter, and he wanted someone fighting beside him. But she'd given up, giving herself to the Walkers. Yet her attempted suicide was an act of defiance in itself. She was still fighting, even to the very end. He looked at her pale face, seeing shades of Beth in her stillness, in her strength, and without thinking, he stroked her hair, silently telling her to fight on, that she wasn't alone, this wasn't the end.

"Thought you were meant to be scrubbing those walls down?" a voice said, making Daryl's head snap up, his hand falling to his side. Gorman stood before him, grinning, arms folded across his burly chest.

"I'm done," Daryl said abruptly, turning to get the bucket.

"You sure about that?" Gorman said. "Looks to me like you were just getting started."

Daryl stared down at the bucket, forcing himself to focus on it.

"She's pretty, ain't she?" Gorman said, sidling over to Joan's bed-side. "Bet in the old world, you wouldn't have got within three feet of a girl like her. But now, now it's different. There ain't much to go round, men included. A girl's got to take what she can, even a dirty redneck like you..."

Daryl's fists clenched into balls by his sides.

"She's good," Gorman said intimately, "I like the ones that fight, makes things more exciting. So maybe we can share" -

Daryl launched himself at Gorman, his fist colliding with flesh, again and again, blood exploding through the air, blurring the blur even further. Somewhere in another world, there was the sound of running feet, Beth singing, hands grabbing the back of his shirt, a hand slipping into his -

"Daryl!"

Daryl looked up, only to find Dawn's pale face inches from his, and a row of guns trained on him. Dawn glanced over her shoulder, lips thinning, jaw tightening. "Stand down," she said coldly, the officers reluctantly lowering their weapons. She signalled them to leave, brushing past Dr. Edwards standing by the doorway, his Adam's apple ticcing in his throat with fear. But Gorman hung back, his battered face contorted with loathing.

"That girl's mine," he spat at Dawn, gesturing to Joan.

"Nobody's yours, Gorman," Dr. Edwards snapped behind him, "nobody."

"Oh, really?" Gorman said, whirling on him.

"If you think you're getting Joan back, you're not," Dawn said, standing up.

"Oh, I'm going to get her back," Gorman said, turning to face her. "Do you really think you can stop me? You've never before."

"I will," Daryl said from between gritted teeth.

"That's enough," Dawn hissed. "Gorman, just go," she then ordered, gesturing to the door.

"We brought that bastard in to help with the heavier work," Gorman said, standing his ground, "because the other wards couldn't cut it and nothing was getting done, everything starting to slide. But all I've seen him do so far is push a mop about or playing with the gerbils. The most he's done is steal from us and shift a few hospital trolleys. He ain't contributing, Dawn."

"There's that shed to be set up," Dawn said colourlessly, "and that van to be fixed. If he can prove his worth with that, well, that's fine. If not, then we'll have to review his position here."

Gorman stared at her before turning and leaving the room.

"A shed?" Daryl said in disbelief.

"We have a lot of tools that need stored and secured," Dawn said, "but the wards have tried and failed to assemble the shed, and my officers think it's beneath them to even attempt it themselves. So therefore it falls to you to build it."

Silence.

"Why did you really bring me here?" Daryl asked, getting to his feet.

"Get a new shirt," she ordered, "and get out of my sight."

* * *

><p>Daryl banged the door shut behind him, making Noah jump violently.<p>

"What the hell are you doing?" Noah snapped, switching the iron off and slamming it down. "You nearly made me scorch that shirt!"

"Need a new one," Daryl said abruptly.

Noah looked at him before turning and taking a clean shirt off the pile on the shelf behind him. He wordlessly handed it over to Daryl, glancing disinterestedly down at Daryl's bloodied knuckles before doing a double take. His eyes widened, meeting Daryl's narrowed ones.

"What happened?" Noah asked with some difficulty.

"Why was I really brought here?" Daryl asked even more abruptly. "An' don't give me that bullshit about Dr. Feelgood needin' somebody to help with the heavy liftin', because that's just moonshine."

Silence.

"It was Dawn who made the call," Noah then said tiredly, resting the heels of his hands on the ironing board. "Dr. Fee - Edwards - ever since I've been here, he's always been complaining about the heavier work he's had to do, the officers complaining about the wards not doing their share - stuff like manual labour and mechanics, it's beyond most of us here. But Dawn never heeded the complaints, not really. If a car needed fixing or a body needed shifting, she'd either leave it to the last minute or force the doctor or one of the officers to deal with it."

Daryl just shrugged his shoulders, not getting Noah's point.

"Like I said, Dawn made the call," Noah repeated, his eyes boring into Daryl's. "Gorman was going to leave you by the roadside, thought you were a lost cause, but Dawn thought you could contribute and brought you in. You're the exception to the rule, Daryl."

Daryl's brow furrowed.

"I was with someone before I came here," Noah said slowly, "we were both pretty messed up. They said they could only save one. For the longest time I actually believed them. But now I get it. The person I was with, they were bigger, stronger. Would have fought back. Would have been a threat. So... they died. Probably like countless others before them. And Dawn just looked the other way, like she's always done. But now she isn't; now she's changing the rules of the game."

Daryl straightened up, brow furrowing even further.

"The officers usually take Dawn's orders at face value," Noah said, ramming his hands into his pockets. "They obey her as long as they get their own way in other things. They've accepted her bringing you in here without really analyzing it, but Gorman's starting to smell a rat. Remember, he didn't want to bring you in. Since then, been spying on you, saying to the others you weren't doing the work you supposed to. Then he was arguing with Dawn over keeping you here after that incident with the strawberries, before coming back and complaining you had been giving him gyp. But she just dismissed him, saying you'd been dealt with or that she'd deal with you."

Daryl looked down at his bloodied knuckles, remembering Gorman's digs about Dawn and her 'special treatment', the way she said his name and ignored how he'd just busted an officer's face in front of her, only to batter Daryl to an almost pulp herself, treating him like a pariah, the memories making his stomach turn with their contradictions.

"She said the other cops said I was a good worker," he said helplessly, grasping at straws.

Noah just scoffed. "It's just Dawn that's saying that, no one else," he said.

"So why am I here?" Daryl asked, more confused than ever.

"You tell me," Noah said, shrugging his shoulders this time. "Dawn might come across as the Terminator, but underneath it all, she's just human, and she's lonely, very lonely. Maybe she saw something in you."

Daryl shifted awkwardly on the spot, shunning Noah's insinuation. Daryl preferred the woods to women, the simplicity of the seasons infinitely preferable to the complex machinations of the opposite sex. Back in their bar-crawling days, he and his brother had vastly different approaches to having a good time, with Merle chasing skirts and the next high, while Daryl kept his head down, nursing a beer and sitting in some dark corner away from it all.

"Or maybe she just saw those biceps of yours and fancied a slice of Dixon pie," Noah said, grinning now.

"Shurrup, man," Daryl said, grinning reluctantly in return.


	10. I'll Live

**I'll Live**

"What the hell are you gonna do now, sport?" Joe mocked before the back of his head exploded, showering blood and brain matter over Rick.

Beth limped out of the darkness, her gun raised, Rick staring at her, shellshocked, before crumpling to the ground. Joe's men just stared at what was left of their leader, shock paralyzing them. Before the men had the chance to more than reach for their own guns, they were dead, Beth turning her gun on the rest of them, Michonne overcoming her own attacker. It wasn't just survival of the fittest; it was survival of the swiftest. You had to think fast on your feet or you were a dead man walking -

"You forgot me, Blondie!" a voice called from behind them.

Beth turned around, Michonne doing the same. The last of Joe's men stood before them, his arm wrapped around Carl's neck in a headlock, using him as a human shield. But what made both women hesitate was the knife the man was brandishing wildly, slashing the air with strident strokes.

"Let him go," Beth said, struggling to keep her voice steady as she lowered her gun, Michonne taking a tentative step forwards.

"You come near me, I'll kill him - I'll kill him!" the man almost screamed, eyes insane.

"He's mine," Rick growled as he got to his feet, something in his face making the man freeze. All of time seemed to slow down and speed up as Rick advanced on him, and before Beth could turn away, Rick was gutting the man like a fish, his terrible screams shattering the silence of the night.

* * *

><p><em>So go to sleep my little child<em>  
><em>I'll sing for you a lullaby<em>  
><em>But don't be sure that when you'll wake<em>  
><em>Everything will feel the same<em>  
><em>Don't be sure that when you'll wake<em>  
><em>You're gonna feel the same without a little moonshine...<em>

She was in a corridor, the coldness making her bare arms goosebump, her yellow polo shirt and ripped jeans insufficient shields against the rapidly dropping temperature. She turned on the spot, gripping her gun for dear life, the darkness almost drowning her. She seemed to be alone, but she sensed otherwise, something shifting in the shadows around her.

Then there was a single gunshot, the sound rippling through the air, chasing away the darkness. When Beth turned around, it was only to see Daryl lying on the ground, his arm flung out as though to break his fall, a red river breaking its banks around him. She looked down at her bloodstained hands, her finger still on the trigger -

Beth jolted awake, the world a stranger. She looked around, breath coming in bursts, her heart racing, only to see Michonne in the seat behind, cradling Carl's head in her lap, stroking his hair, her face inscrutable as ever. Beth rested her forehead on the dashboard, trying to steady herself, the memories of the night before making her hands shake.

After leaving the house, following a feeling she couldn't explain, she'd limped after Joe and the others, losing sight of them for several, sickening minutes until she'd heard Joe's voice, the loudness of it indicating he'd found his prey. That's when she'd struck, not waiting to see who it was that he had at his questionable mercy. It was only after pulling the trigger, she'd seen Rick and then the others.

The rest she didn't want to think about or what her father would have said at seeing his Bethy gunning men down in cold blood. But then again, her father hadn't been what he'd appeared to be either; underneath that kindly front had been a drunkard with blood on his hands. Yet Hershel had also been a man who knew his foibles and failings, fighting against them, the battle making him a better man.

After helping Rick drag the bodies away, putting the corpses down with her knife, the pain in her ankle nearly making her pass out, she and Rick had returned to the others, Beth volunteering to keep watch as Michonne steered Carl into the abandoned car, Rick telling her in tired tones that he'd keep watch, that she should get some shut-eye and they'd talk in the morning.

That's when Beth had asked about Judith, Rick shaking his head brokenly, before turning his back on her, dismissing her. She'd retreated into the claustrophobic confines of the car, burying her grief in bitter sleep. But there had been no escape to be found in slumber, her dreams becoming nightmares where she gunned down Daryl in the darkness, mistaking her family for foe, his blood staining her skin.

* * *

><p>Beth stood before Rick, holding out a dirty cloth and bottle of water she'd found in one of the men's backpacks. He just stared blankly at her, his eyes haunted, face shellshocked. For a terrible moment, she wished it was Daryl looking at her in the way he'd looked at her in that candle-lit kitchen. Nobody had looked at her like that before, like they were truly seeing her.<p>

"You can't see yourself," she then said, forcing the cloth and bottle into his shaking hand, "but they can," she said, jerking her chin at the car he was leaning against. Rick looked at her for a long moment, before shaking his head to himself, setting the bottle and cloth onto the ground. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she stooped down, snatching them up again, before kneeling down, forcing Rick to face her.

"What are you doin'?" he asked wearily, watching as she unscrewed the lid, tipping the water onto the cloth.

"I'm doin' the Macarena," she said sarcastically, too strung out to humour him as she started cleaning his face, scrubbing it clean of the blood, before moving onto his hands.

"Hershel... your father... I'm sorry," Rick said suddenly, making Beth glance sharply at him.

"Don't," she said brusquely, "it's not on you, Rick."

He looked at her again, eyes clouding over. She tossed the cloth aside before tightening the lid, clutching the bottle in her hand, its plastic grooves digging into her skin. For several moments, they just sat there side by side in silence, and then Rick spoke, his voice cracking.

"We're headin' to this joint called Terminus," he said abruptly.

"So am I," she said just as abruptly.

Silence.

"How did you get out of the prison?" he then asked.

"What, findin' it hard to believe that I made it?" Beth said, staring into the middle distance. "I'm not goin' to be another dead girl, Grimes. I've... I've changed. I've been changin' for a long time now. It's just nobody's ever bothered to see it." _Except Daryl..._

Rick just nodded, but she wasn't sure if he was simply humouring her, more for his own sake than hers. Deep down she knew he would always see her as a little girl, a ponytailed princess only fit for being left behind whilst the others went out to war.

"You alone?" he asked, startling her out of her thoughts.

"I was with Daryl," Beth said with great difficulty, her gaze falling involuntarily on Daryl's crossbow lying on the ground nearby, "we got out together. I was with him for a while..."

Rick looked at her, watching as she bowed her head, trying to fight back the tears.

"Is he dead?" he asked, swallowing hard, thinking of the man he called brother gone from him.

Beth shook her head. "He's just gone," she said, straightening up, something like steel lining her soul. "But I'm gonna find him again."

Rick studied her pale face, the hard set of her usually soft features, before slowly realising that she _had _changed, that the girl had become a woman. What she did last night, he could argue anyone could have done that, but not Beth. Yet she had, she'd gunned down several men in cold blood, the girl who never raised her voice except in song. Something had happened to her, maybe from the moment she'd seen her father cut down, severing her from all that she knew. But this was her, why she was here now, why they were all here now. They'd all changed.

* * *

><p>The four of them followed the train-tracks, all united by their tentative hope in Terminus, Beth shouldering her knapsack and Daryl's crossbow, the others what they had scavenged from Joe and his men's supplies, loading what food and weapons could be salvaged into backpacks. As they walked, Rick slowed down to accommodate Beth's limping pace, glancing worriedly at her ankle, asking how she was holding up.<p>

"I'll live," Beth said stoically.

"I bet you will," Rick said, smiling brokenly a little, making her smile back.

They walked on in silence for a few minutes more, trailing behind Michonne and Carl, before Rick asked Beth in a low voice how she'd managed to find them. Beth swallowed hard, before hesitantly sharing her story, skipping over how she killed Len, only that she'd managed to get away from Joe and the others. Rick looked at her for a long moment, before asking if she was okay. Understanding what he was implying, she just nodded, biting her lip, blocking out the memory of Len's hands on her. Rick nodded in turn, not saying anymore, Beth not pushing him for his own history with Joe and his group, why they'd attacked him.

"Maggie's at Terminus," she then said in a rush, anxious to change the subject. "I came across a message she'd left sayin' she'd be there."

Rick just nodded again, eyes narrowing as he stared out amongst the trees, becoming distracted by his demons.

"The others might be there," she pressed.

"I hope so," he said simply, before striding ahead, starting to have second thoughts over what they were about to do.


	11. This Isn't Control

**This Isn't Control**

"Can't we just bury 'em?" Daryl grunted as he tipped the hospital trolley forwards.

"We have to work with what we have," Dr. Edwards said coldly, watching the body plummet down the lift shaft.

"Use everythin' you can use," Daryl muttered, slumping against the wall.

Dr. Edwards glanced at him. "You're learning," he said almost approvingly before raising his eyebrows as Daryl's stomach grumbled loudly.

"There's a rumble in the jungle," Daryl said sarcastically, before turning and dragging the hospital trolley away.

* * *

><p>Daryl was counting his sixtieth sit-up when the door creaked open, making him freeze. Dawn stood in the doorway, the lines of her pale face set in heavy lines. She held a tray stiffly in her hands, the sight of the food making his stomach rumble again. Taking this as her cue to come in, she closed the door behind her, the soft click sounding like the clash of cymbals to Daryl, almost like a cloister bell, a warning.<p>

"I heard you're on hunger strike," she said, the coldness of her tone sitting at odds with the levity she was aiming for.

"I'm used to bein' hungry," Daryl said, getting uneasily to his feet.

"You can't do your work if you don't eat," Dawn said, sitting down on the edge of his bed, placing the tray on the new bedside cabinet.

"I ain't gonna eat if every grain of rice I take is tallied up," Daryl said, retreating to the window.

"Peace treaty?"

"Huh?"

"What Gorman doesn't see, Gorman doesn't know," Dawn said, attempting a smile, the sight making the back of his skin crawl. "So sit down and tuck in," she then said, patting the space on the bed beside her, something in her words striking him as having a double-meaning.

"I'm alright over here," he said, shifting uneasily on the spot.

Dawn just raised her eyebrows, her lips thinning. Fighting the urge to cut and run, he crossed the floor, before throwing himself down beside her, wondering what the hell she was up to. Noah's insinuations unwillingly filtered through his thoughts, but Daryl dismissed them as bullshit.

"There, that wasn't so hard was it?" she said, attempting another smile.

"Nah," Daryl lied, wishing himself a hundred miles away.

"You know, you shouldn't see this as a sentence, Daryl," Dawn said, turning to him, "I'm giving you food, clothes, protection, but there are rules to be obeyed here, and you're not obeying them. I'm shielding you, Daryl. My officers want you out, and I can only convince them so much. It's up to you to fit in or..." Her voice trailed off.

"Or I'm dumped down that lift shaft," Daryl said bluntly.

Dawn laughed, the sound forced, grating on his ears. "Don't be so melodramatic," she said, her smile slipping slightly. "This isn't _1984_."

"I don't know about what year we're in," Daryl snarled, not registering her literary reference, "but I sure as hell can smell a rat around here. If your face don't fit, you disappear."

"Look at everything you're being given," Dawn said, returning to the original subject at hand, starting to lose patience, "when have they ever been free? That's why you have to see sense. You have to contribute, Daryl, you have to compromise. You take and you give back. You fit in, we leave you alone as long as you do your work. It's a good system; straightforward and simple to understand, even to someone like you."

"I might not have letters after my name," Daryl said from between gritted teeth, "but all I understand is that your system is screwed up. The wards are bein' used, starved. An' what about Joan, eh? That bastard Gorman has got his eye on her again" -

- "And so do you, from what I'm hearing," Dawn said dangerously, silencing him, sickening him.

"Don't talk shit," Daryl then said with great difficulty, "I j'st feel sorry for the girl, that's'll."

"I'm glad," Dawn said quietly, resting her hand on his knee, making him tense up. They sat there like that for several long moments, each tick of the clock drilling into his skull, her touch rooting him to the spot, imprisoning him. He felt like he was going to throw up, nausea replacing hunger. Daryl had never been good about letting people get too close, emotionally or otherwise. Rick and the others were the exception, his brother, his family. He knew them. He trusted them. He loved them. But this was different. This was a violation, a violence. And when she slid her hand to his thigh, he finally found the courage to shove her palm away, before standing up, his head spinning.

"I picked you for a reason," Dawn said, her voice cracking as he retreated back to the window, "I knew you were strong and I need strong people around me because things are changing around here. Factions are springing up, and neither of them wants me in charge. But they're making a mistake. I have to show them that."

Daryl didn't answer her, wishing she would just go, that she would just leave.

"Gorman, O'Donnell... I hate them. The things they do revile me. Sometime I just sit there and cry," Dawn whispered. "But the other officers that are against them, they wouldn't believe that I feel that way, because I've always turned a blind eye to what was happening. I have to keep things going here though - I have to keep the hospital on an even keel. There have been compromises, but they've been necessary. But I realise now that I have to make compromises of my own. I have to choose a side and I want you on my side, Daryl."

"Why?" Daryl spat, whirling around.

"I want the wards with me on this," Dawn said, standing up, "I know you covered up for Percy, that he was the one that stole the strawberries. I punished you instead of him though, because I knew you could take it, when he couldn't. But I didn't punish you for beating Gorman over Joan. If you're on anyone's side, you're on their side, the wards side, and I want them and you on my side. I have their best interests at heart, and if I can show that, with your help, I'll win them over."

Daryl just stared at her. In a blinding moment of clarity, he realised that she was insane, driven mad by the world within, as well as the one outside. Now she was clutching desperately at straws, placing her total trust in a stranger she'd beaten and battered, taking him from all that he'd had left. He knew then and there that he was walking a knife-edge. One wrong move and it was all over.

"You don't get it, do you?" Dawn said, her eyes wild. "I thought you'd understand, but you don't" -

- "I do," Daryl said quietly, lying through his teeth. "I didn't before, but I get it now."

Dawn stared at him, almost right through him, and for a heartstopping moment, her fingers twitched manically in the direction of her gun. Then she dropped her hands to her sides, her face clearing.

"I'll let you get on with your meal," she said coldly, as though the last few minutes had never happened. Then she turned on her heel and left the room, Daryl slumping against the windowsill, realizing what he'd done.

* * *

><p>Daryl pushed the mop to and fro, the silence only disturbed by the beep of the hospital machines and the swish of the mop. The floor didn't need cleaned, but he needed to be alone. Joan was still out of it, and he drew a comfort from her presence that he didn't want to admit even to himself. She reminded him of Beth, and that's where his solace came from. But at the same time, he knew Beth was gone from him, and Joan wasn't her. Yet he needed a trip to Denial Island. Anything was better than here, than the hospital.<p>

"I know about what you did," Joan said from the bed, her voice hoarse, making him freeze, "to Gorman, I mean."

Daryl stared at her.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"I'll go and get Dr. Edwards," he said abruptly.

"No, don't!"

Daryl froze again.

"Not yet," she said more weakly, closing her eyes for a moment.

Daryl leaned the mop against the wall, his heart twisting in his chest at the sight of Joan's pale face. For a moment he was glad that he was the one that had been taken, and not Beth. It could have been Beth here, Beth in that bed, Beth enduring this hell. Then Joan opened her eyes again, her gaze steady as it settled on his face. He edged closer to the bed, careful to keep a distance though, glancing awkwardly at her amputated arm.

"I'm... I'm sorry," he said simply. "I'm sorry this happened to ya."

"She can control them," Joan said, startling him. "But she doesn't because it's easier. Because she's a coward."

Daryl looked down at the ground, gnawing his thumbnail.

"She's got her hooks into you, hasn't she?" Joan said, something like disgust colouring her words.

Daryl looked sharply at her, eyes narrowing.

"I heard the way she said your name," Joan said, making him gnaw his thumbnail again, her words resurrecting what he was trying to outrun.

Silence.

"I was her protégée, her pet," Joan then said bitterly, "I thought she was like me, that she didn't want this, the hospital, everything. Despite it all, we were the same, struggling to survive the hand we'd been dealt with. She confided in me, made me feel like we were friends of a sort. But then Gorman..." She swallowed hard, hatred battling the tears in her eyes. "When he started to harass me, I told her, but she said to just ignore him, that I was making something out of nothing. Then he... and she didn't do anything about it. She just turned a blind eye, pretending that it never happened."

Daryl looked away, his heart twisting in his chest again.

"She's got her eye on you," Joan said, her voice cracking, "another pawn to be played."

"She thinks I'm onside, but I'm not," Daryl exploded, unable to keep silent anymore. "Not a snowball's chance in hell."

Joan scoffed at this. "It doesn't matter," she said, "I guess it's easy to make a deal with the devil when you're not the one paying the price."

"I'm gettin' out of here," Daryl said suddenly, simply, the world making sudden sense again.

Joan just shrugged a shoulder, the movement making her wince.

"An' I'm takin' you with me," he added abruptly.

Joan laughed out loud at this. "I've just lost half my arm," she sneered, "in case you haven't noticed."

"Wouldn't kill you to have a little faith, would it?"

"Fat load of good faith has done me" -

- "I knew this old man," Daryl cut across her as he sat down on the edge of the bed, "toughest son of a bitch ever. Lost his leg from the knee down, but just kept on, man. Nothin' was gonna stop him, not even that."

"Where is he now?" Joan said, sitting up, interested despite herself.

"He... he died," Daryl said with great difficulty.

"When?"

"Week or so ago, I... I dunno," Daryl said, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

"I'm sorry."

He glanced at her sympathetic face, dropping his calloused hands to his sides.

"What happened?" she asked cautiously. "Where are you from originally?"

Silence.

"Had a group," he said bluntly. "Were good people. Turned this prison into our base. Took in people an' stuff. Not like this shit-hole though. Then... then he... this bastard rolled right through our gates, tore up the turf, destroyed the place. Killed a lot of our people. I was with... someone. Got out together. Couldn't do nothin' but run. Was all gone. Was with her for a while, but then we got separated."

"By Dawn?"

Daryl nodded.

"I'm sorry," Joan repeated quietly.

"So'm I," Daryl said, getting to his feet. And with that, he turned and left, Joan watching him go with worried eyes.

_Left behind the perfect crime__  
><em>_Like a swell hence subside__  
><em>_Subside__  
><em>_What was the spell it feels like a curse__  
><em>_Wonder if you could lead first_


	12. High Hopes

**High Hopes**

_But I've got high hopes, it takes me back to when we started_  
><em>High hopes, when you let it go, go out and start again<em>  
><em>High hopes, when it all comes to an end<em>  
><em>But the world keeps spinning around<em>

"I don't know if we should do this," Rick said uneasily. "Might be walkin' into another Woodbury."

"You don't know that," Beth argued. "There are still good people out there."

"You talkin' about those at Terminus or just the world in general?" Michonne said not a little scathingly.

"I'm talkin' about both," Beth said firmly.

"Well, I say we take a vote," Rick said wearily.

"Does mine count?" Carl asked, tilting the brim of his hat back.

"Yeah, it does," Rick replied, fighting back a grin, the impulse, alien, and strange.

"Well, I say yes," Beth said, tossing her head back.

"And I say nay," Rick said, jaw tightening.

Michonne and Carl looked at each other.

"What else do we have?" Michonne said slowly. "If Maggie's headin' there, so might any of the others from the prison."

"Is that a yes, then?" Rick said, eyes narrowing.

Michonne nodded, Carl doing the same.

* * *

><p>"We're headin' through the woods," Beth said, folding her arms across her chest. "We don't know who they are."<p>

"But you just said they'd be good people," Rick said impatiently.

"I believe there's still good people out there," Beth said, tilting her chin, "but that doesn't mean everyone. Even if Maggie and the others are there, we have to be careful."

Rick just nodded, jaw tightening again, Michonne laying her hand on his arm, Rick glancing up at her, something passing between them. Beth turned away from them, not wanting to intrude on a private moment, offering Carl a wobbly smile instead. But he just stared at her, before turning and stalking off. Beth followed him, annoyed, struggling to keep up.

"Hey!" she hissed, making him stop.

"Leave-me-alone," Carl said from between gritted teeth.

"We have to stay together."

"Who died and made you the leader?" Carl said dangerously.

Beth just glared at him, forgetting her new found maturity in the face of Carl's immaturity.

"You can't waltz back here like some heroine from a stupid story, taking charge and telling us what to do," Carl said, eyes narrowing. "You're just going to end up getting us killed."

Beth looked at Carl, taking in his too long hair and the weariness in his eyes. He was old before his time, a boy being a man. But somehow she knew he was going to beat this world, like she would.

"They tried to hurt me too," Beth then said quietly. "But I can't let it control me. I just... I just have to keep on."

"We all do," Carl said coldly, before turning and walking back to the others.

* * *

><p>They stood at the chainlink fence, looking through its mesh at the large sandstone building in the middle distance, TERMINUS painted in black capital letters on its front. All Beth's contradictory hopes for Terminus crashed together in her heart, suspicion battling intense relief that they'd finally reached shelter. Yes, she still believed in good people, but it was rapidly becoming a tarnished belief. Yet despite this, she was determined to hold onto it.<p>

But at the same time, she couldn't help but wince at the earlier whimsy of her thoughts when she'd first come across the sign for Terminus, becoming starry-eyed at the prospect of sanctuary, ignoring the doubts stalking her heart. She had let Terminus dazzle her, but not anymore. That's why she'd suggested sneaking in; giving them the advantage over what might be the enemy.

Rick stood beside her, hand resting on his Colt Python. He was pissed off at Beth over what he perceived as her hypocrisy. One minute she'd be talking sense, the next spouting bullshit. As far as he was concerned, there were no good people anymore, except his own. Yet as he glanced at her, he unwillingly conceded she was obviously struggling to reconcile a naturally optimistic outlook with harsh reality. He could only hope her natural good sense would win out over her naivety.

If he'd known what she'd done back at the funeral home, writing a thank you note to a stranger after eating her way through most of their stash, he would have just shook his head before maybe banging it off a brick wall. He lacked Daryl's indulgence for her flights of fancy, humouring the way she held onto hope. He had no faith in anything anymore, least of all faith in a future for them all. He'd tried and it had been taken from him, from them all. Now here they were, maybe standing at the gates of hell, all because of some girl's hope it would be home.

* * *

><p>After burying the majority of their weapons in the woods, Beth reluctantly leaving Daryl's crossbow hidden halfway up a tree, they scaled the fence, Beth having to be helped up and over by Rick, much to her annoyance. Hugging the wall, they made for a half open fire exit, guns raised, sword ready. Entering the building, they headed down a dark hall, following the oddly echoing monotone of a woman's voice.<p>

_Those who arrive survive. Follow the tracks to where all lines intersect. There are maps at the crossings... _

Beth peered around the side of the door, curious despite herself. There were people working at a number of metal trolleys turned into desks, a man moving back and forth, carrying what looked like signs; others writing or drawing, some painting. In the centre of the depot sat a woman, the source of the monotone, speaking into some sort of old-fashioned tannoy. Beth glanced at the others, her brow furrowing. Rick stepped forwards, jaw tightening. Without ceremony, he entered the depot, approaching the woman.

"Hello," he said simply, making the woman glance up in surprise, the others turning around.

Beth, Michonne and Carl then stepped forwards as well, the four of them forming a line, facing the strangers, almost like a stand-off. Beth scanned their faces, desperately searching for Maggie, for anyone. One of the men, tall, his thin features shadowed by stubble, looked up at the ceiling, all but rolling his eyes.

"Well, I bet Albert's on perimeter watch," he said sarcastically, laying down his paintbrush.

One of the women smiled at this, before brushing the hair back from her face and glancing down at the ground. The man then came forwards, clapping his hands together as he moved, the sound reverberating around the depot, making Beth jump slightly.

"You here to rob us?" he asked, surveying them all, his fringe falling into his eyes, obscuring them.

"No," Rick replied. "We wanted to see you before you saw us."

The man looked at the others, exchanging a forced smile with them. "Makes sense," he said, "but usually we do this where the tracks meet. This isn't as pretty as the front - we got nothing to hide, but the welcome wagon is a _whole_ lot nicer."

Rick just stared at him, his face blank.

"So, welcome to Terminus," the man said hastily, trying to halt the tension rising, "I'm Gareth."

"Rick," Rick said almost robotically, "Carl, Michonne, Beth."

"Hi," Gareth said, waving his hand at them, the gesture almost mocking. "Looks like you've been on the road for a while."

"We have," Rick said, something in his voice silencing Beth who was about to ask if her sister was at Terminus.

Silence.

"You're nervous, I get it," Gareth then sighed heavily, "we're all the same way. But _we_ came here for sanctuary. Is that what you're here for?"

"Yes."

"Good, you've found it," Gareth smiled.

* * *

><p>After checking their weapons and patting them down, Rick and his group were then led outside, their guide's name Alex. Beth fell into step beside him, trying not to wince as her ankle made its painful presence felt again.<p>

"You hurt?" Alex asked, looking concerned.

"Just my ankle," Beth admitted.

"We can patch you up - if you want, that is," he suggested hesitantly.

"That'd be great," Beth smiled, making him smile shyly in return. From somewhere behind her, Carl scoffed. "So how long has this place been here?" she asked hastily, as Alex glanced behind him, brow creasing.

"Since almost the start," Alex said, shading his eyes with his hand against the glare of the sun. "When other camps got overrun, people started findin' this place. I think it was instinct, y'know?"

"I think it's beautiful," Beth said earnestly, her wide-eyed gaze falling on the sunflowers growing in make-shift pot-plants by the wall. This time it was Rick that scoffed.

Alex just smiled at her again, ducking his head as he took them over to where a middle-aged woman was cooking meat, the smell tantalizing, making Beth's stomach rumble.

"Hi," the woman smiled, flipping some of the meat over. "Heard you came in through the back door. Smart. You'll fit right in here."

Beth just smiled back, lulled into a false sense of security by the woman's cosy appearance and warm voice, the sight of her greying braid flung over one shoulder reminding Beth of her grandmother. She then glanced around, trying and failing to find Maggie in the faces surrounding her. Somebody nudged her elbow, startling her. But it was just Alex, holding out a plate of meat. Beth reached out to take it, nodding her head in thanks. But as she did so, her gaze fell upon a silver watch-chain hanging from one of the belt loops of his combat trousers, a watch-chain she had tugged on and played with as a child, her big blue eyes widening with wonder at the sight of time captured and contained.

Before Beth could stop herself, sudden rage burning through her veins, infecting, infesting, alien, she knocked the plate aside, raising her gun to Alex's head at the same time. But Rick was swifter, slyer, grabbing Alex in a head-lock, the barrel of his gun biting into Alex's temple, allowing him no escape. Almost instantly, Carl and Michonne had their weapons at the ready, facing in opposite directions, their stances steady, their eyes narrowing.

Beth rushed forwards, gun still raised, wresting her father's watch free. "Where did you get this?" she demanded, voice cracking.

"If you want answers, you put down the gun," Alex said from between gritted teeth, no longer shy and smiling, but frantic and frightened.

"I see your man on the roof with a sniper rifle," Rick growled, "how good is his aim?"

"Where did you get the watch!?" Beth screamed, suddenly losing all self-control. "Where did you get it!?"

_And in my dreams, I meet the ghosts of all the people who have come and gone_  
><em>Memories, they seem to show up so quick but they leave you far too soon<em>  
><em>Naïve I was just staring at the barrel of a gun<em>  
><em>And I do believe that, yeah<em>


	13. Prove Me Wrong

**Prove Me Wrong **

Daryl was carrying a heavy basket of dirty laundry when they brought the new girl in. He stopped to let them pass, pressing himself against the wall, gritting his teeth as Gorman deliberately barged into him. Daryl watched him and Shepherd take the girl to Dawn's office before making his way to the laundry room where Noah was working his way through a pile of ironing.

"Hey," Noah said, not looking up from the ironing board.

"Hey," Daryl said, dumping the basket down on the ground, "saw they just brought some new blood in."

"It surprisingly happens a lot," Noah said, "whether they last is another thing altogether."

"Girl's just a kid though, 'bout your age," Daryl said, brow furrowing, "she ain't a threat."

"You'd be surprised," Noah said, smiling bitterly. "We had a twelve year old trying to take Dawn out about six months back."

"What do y'mean?"

"Tried to stab Dawn with a pair of scissors. Ended up with a bullet between her eyes."

Daryl looked away.

"The wards will be taking bets on the new girl," Noah said, setting his iron down. "My guess is she'll last a month at most, depending on how she reacts to the regime in here."

"What did you stake on me?"

"Two days tops," Noah said, "but you proved me wrong."

"Let's hope I keep provin' you wrong," Daryl said darkly.

_And this day's ending _  
><em>Is the proof of time killing, all the faith I know<em>  
><em>Knowing that faith, is all I hold...<em>

* * *

><p>Daryl ran a mop along the floor of Joan's room, nodding his head in acknowledgement of her faint smile. Dr. Edwards was checking her vitals, his back turned to them, something Daryl was grateful for. He didn't want any more digs about his fledgling friendship with Joan, if you could even call it that. An uneasy rapport had sprung up between the strangers, but Daryl was uncomfortably aware of the dangers of investing too much emotion into a brief bond.<p>

Despite his daily interaction with Noah, he was more or less on his own in the hospital, and Daryl didn't do too well on his own. He was all but clinging to Joan like a life-belt, his visits to her bedside the only bright spots on his otherwise dark horizon. Her blunt attitude was almost like an antidote to Dawn's advances, the memory of her hand on his thigh still making him feel sick.

He wasn't stupid enough to think Dawn was attracted to him. Someone as sterile as her would never be drawn to a dirty redneck. It was about power and control. She thought she could control him through tainted desire, turning him into a one-man puppet show, the admission price a cheap thrill. She needed him onside and she mistakenly believed there was only one way of making that happen. It might have worked on Merle, but it sure as hell wasn't going to work on him. But he had to hide how he really felt, or he'd end up headfirst down that life shaft. It was just a case of buying time for himself, enough to find a way out of the hospital.

* * *

><p>"This is Raeanne," Dawn said, forcing a smile onto her face as she introduced the new girl to Dr. Edwards. "She'll be helping you on your rounds."<p>

Dr. Edwards smiled at Raeanne, who just ducked her head, her long dark hair falling across her pale face. Daryl stood awkwardly in the corner, trying to avoid catching Dawn's eye. For all her talk about giving him a heavier workload, nothing had changed. He was still doing the same jobs as before, on top of whatever else Dr. Edwards gave him to do. But with this Raeanne now on the scene, he wondered uneasily what it would mean for him.

"Raeanne helped out at her dad's veterinary clinic before the Turn," Dawn explained to the doctor, "so I thought you could train her up as a sort of assistant or something."

Dr. Edwards nodded, his face suddenly inscrutable.

"As for Daryl, if you have no complaints about his work, he can continue as he is until I review his position here," Dawn said, heading for the door.

"I've no complaints," Dr. Edwards said, "just a concern."

"What do you mean?" Dawn said dangerously, slowing to a stop.

"I mean he was brought in here to help me," Dr. Edwards said, standing his ground, "he's meant to be an orderly, Dawn, not a dogsbody. If you start making him fix cars and set up sheds as well as whatever else Gorman thinks up for him, it'll create a vacuum. I need him here, not out there."

"I'll deal with Gorman," Dawn said coldly. "But Daryl remains where he is for the time being, until I review his position, and then we'll see, alright?"

"Alright," Dr. Edwards said meekly, his flash of rebellion fading.

* * *

><p>Daryl carried his tray of food down the silent corridor, appreciating its emptiness. When it was like this, he could pretend he wasn't here, that he wasn't trapped. There was no Dawn, there was nobody. He could leave whenever he liked. Then Shepherd came out of Dawn's office, her face filled with strain, shattering the illusion. She walked past Daryl, completely ignoring him, which suited him fine.<p>

"Daryl?"

Daryl turned around, only to see Dr. Edwards standing in the doorway to his own office. He looked pissed off, the sight of him so making Daryl tense up. The doctor had sent Raeanne and Daryl out on a brief break, after Raeanne somehow managed to spill the contents of Trevitt's catheter all over herself. Daryl had used the opportunity to grab something to eat, Raeanne going to get clean clothes from the laundry room.

"What's up, Doc?" Daryl asked, struggling to be civil.

"Don't worry, I'm not dragging you back on duty," Dr. Edwards said, eying the tray piled high with food, "not yet anyways. I was just wondering if you could do something for me later on. If you didn't mind, that is."

"Depends on what you want doin'," Daryl said carefully.

"One of the wards is pregnant," Dr. Edwards said bluntly, "just found out this morning. Dawn's not happy about it, but the ward is adamant she's keeping the child, so Dawn just has to suck it up. Thing is, she's going to need things for the baby. Dawn is prepared to provide the basics, but that's it. No fripperies, no toys, no nothing. Just the necessities."

Daryl just looked at him blankly.

"The ward in question is of a fragile state of mind," Dr. Edwards said slowly, "there was a nasty scene this morning when Dawn laid down the law to her. To cut a long story short, she's worried about the baby not having anything to play with, of not having the little things mothers tend to spoil their child with, you know?"

Daryl didn't know.

"What I'm asking is, would you mind making something for the baby?" Dr. Edwards asked. "I'm thinking maybe wooden blocks or something? I'd provide all the materials and tools."

Daryl shrugged his shoulders, not sure what else he could do. "Sure," he said uneasily, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the next.

"Thank you," Dr. Edwards said, sounding genuinely grateful.

"What's up?" Daryl asked before he could stop himself. "You look pissed."

"Probably because Raeanne got Trevitt's piss all over my shoes," Dr. Edwards said, sighing heavily. "Percy's cleaning up the puddle as we speak."

"I'd have done it," Daryl said, frowning at the thought of the old man having to clean up Trevitt's mess.

"You do enough, Daryl," Dr. Edwards said, straightening his glasses.

Silence.

"Think Trevitt will pull through?" Daryl said, not really caring. If the guy died, he'd have had a lucky escape from this hell-hole.

"Probably," Dr. Edwards said oddly, "only time will tell."

Daryl just nodded, before heading to his room. As he reached it, he froze, the sound of Gorman's voice shattering the silence.

"She was meant to be my ward!" he hollered at Dawn. "I found her! I brought her in!"

"Dr. Edwards needs an assistant," Dawn said coldly, standing in the doorway of her office, her hands on her hips, "so I provided him with one."

"What, like you provided him with Dixon?" Gorman scoffed. "We all know Dixon's really your plaything, that you're just using the good ole doctor as cover. That's all fine and dandy, Dawn, as long we're getting our perks as well" -

- "My perks don't involve getting the wards pregnant," Dawn hissed. "Now I have to clean up your mess, and for what? Nothing, that's what. Now my officers have to risk their lives in finding supplies for the brat, because you won't take responsibility for it."


	14. You're Either The Butcher Or The Cattle

**You're Either The Butcher Or The Cattle**

The entrance to the train car slammed shut behind them, feeling almost like a physical blow. Slats of sunlight pierced the darkness, striking random patches of ground and wall, creating fluctuating pools of light. Beth's hands clenched into balls by her sides, the metal of her father's fob-watch digging into her flesh, her heart thudding hard in her chest, guilt making it hard to breathe. She was to blame. Despite the doubts, despite their precautions, she'd failed her family. She'd brought them here. She'd believed there was still good people, and she'd been wrong.

Despite running, despite fighting, it had all been for nothing. They'd been herded like cattle into a designated area called 'A', before being cornered and corralled, reminding Beth of the way life was on the farm. There had been an order back then; a routine, everyone and everything had its place, humans and livestock alike. She'd believed all that had been long lost with the world ending, but the same system was still in place at Terminus, except they were the cattle now, Gareth and the others the butchers.

"Still think this is beautiful, Beth?" Carl sneered.

"That's enough," Michonne snapped, grabbing his arm. "We all made the decision to come here, not just Beth."

"They have the others," Rick said, his voice cracking. "Or they did. They could be dead for all we know. Maggie, Glenn" -

- "Rick?" a voice asked, startling them, silencing them. Then Glenn stepped out of the darkness and into the light, followed by Maggie, Bob, Sasha and four strangers Beth didn't recognize. The two groups stood staring at each other, both not believing what they were seeing, and as Beth's gaze met her sister's, the guilt faded into an all encompassing relief that almost overwhelmed her. Regardless of everything, she'd made the right decision to come here. What was left of her family was here, and her place was with them.

"You're here," Rick breathed, "you're _here_." His gaze travelled over them all, dwelling on each familiar face in turn, his heart clenching in his chest. He'd thought he'd never see them again, that they were lost to him. Yet here they were in front of him, _alive_. As he stared at the strangers, studying a short girl with black bobbed hair in particular, her shoulders hunching almost guiltily under his gaze, Maggie spoke up, her voice hesitant.

"They're our friends," Maggie said, glancing at the girl behind her, "they helped save us."

"There_ is _still good people," Beth whispered.

* * *

><p>As they worked on making make-shift weapons for themselves, using the silver chain of Hershel's fob-watch to sheer off long shards of wood from the inside of the train car, or turning their belts into spiked knuckle-dusters of sorts, each group apprised the other of their respective fates after the fall of the prison. The shock of a cure existing in DC had reverberated around Rick and the others, making Beth's voice shake as she spoke of Daryl, before falling silent, words failing her. She and Maggie hadn't spoken or even embraced, and Beth knew why, despite her best efforts to block it out, to lay it aside.<p>

If Maggie had written Beth's name in blood, things would have been different. But Maggie had given up, and Beth hadn't, highlighting the shift in their relationship, throwing into relief what it really was. They'd grown apart, and it had taken for the prison to fall to shake off the dust concealing the change. Beth was no longer the little girl Maggie could boss about; she was a woman now, and somehow Maggie couldn't adjust to the idea. The relatively even tenor of events at the prison had hidden it, each sister becoming entangled in their own lives, somehow living apart under the same roof.

After the Governor's attack, Maggie had made a split-second choice, and she'd chosen Glenn, focusing all her efforts on finding him again. Except it was a choice that had come back to haunt her. Beth had survived; she had made it, when Maggie hadn't believed she was strong enough to. Beth stared down at the shard of wood in her hand, biting her lip. She tried to see events from Maggie's angle, how she'd not just lost a father, but also a husband and sister in the same breath; being forced to choose between family, being only able to search for one or the other, and not both.

But it kept coming back to the same thing that Maggie could and should have included Beth's name in her message. It was only four letters, but they meant forever, they meant family, and Maggie had forsaken these four letters. Yet despite Beth's turmoil, there was a sense of almost hope in the air, a grim triumph even. Despite the odds, they'd found each other again. They would fight their way out of here, alongside Abraham and the others. They'd take down Terminus together. They would survive together. They would forge a new future together -

"Four of them pricks are comin' our way," Abraham growled, peering through one of the narrow openings, the sunlight striking his greasy ginger hair.

"Right, you all know what to do," Rick said quickly, everyone getting into attack position, "aim for the eyes first, then their throats."

"Put your backs to the walls at either end of the car, _now!_" a man bellowed from outside.

Beth swallowed hard, trying to ignore the ache in her ankle, unwillingly remembering the blood she had shed, the blood she would have to spill now. Her gaze met Maggie's, her sister nodding slightly, almost in encouragement. Beth nodded back, life and death temporarily drawing them together again. Then something struck the roof, the rolling sound making them all glance up. A spray can of sorts fell through one of the slats, landing by Beth's foot. She stared at it in confusion, and then she was being dragged backwards by Abraham, his loud yell of _MOVE! _almost deafening her.

Then there was an explosion, the confines of the train car becoming engulfed in a cloud of grey smoke. It burned Beth's eyes, blinding her, the dust clogging up her throat and nostrils. She fell to the floor, coughing her guts up, retching almost, Maggie futilely calling her name, the syllables sounding almost strangled. The last thing Beth was aware of was the sound of stomping feet, almost like an army, and then her head was hitting the ground, the darkness claiming her for its own.

_Stay awake with me _  
><em>You know I can't just let you be <em>  
><em>Stay awake with me<em>  
><em>Take your hand and come and find me...<em>

* * *

><p>"Bethy? Bethy?"<p>

"Daddy?" Beth whispered, her hand trying to find his.

"No, it's me, Maggie," the voice said, sounding frantic.

Beth's eyes fluttered open, her gaze settling with some difficulty on her sister's filthy face. "Maggie?" Beth said weakly, trying and failing to sit up.

"It's always the lil ones," Abraham said darkly.

"Shut up, Abe," Rosita said, her voice sounding strained. "When you came round, you thought you were in Las Vegas."

Somebody snorted, the sound quickly cut off, silence reigning instead. Beth's gaze travelled over those gathered around her, before doubling back and doing it all over again, panic rising in her. "Where are they?" she croaked, turning on her side, feeling like she was going to throw up. "Where are Rick and the others?"

"They took them away," Michonne said, her voice cracking.

For a moment Beth was back on that dark road, running through the darkness, trying to keep up with a car long gone. The tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to overflow, but Beth blinked them back, forcing herself to focus. She didn't cry anymore, that's what she'd told Daryl, and crying wasn't going to get him or the others back. Standing up, her legs shaking beneath her, her ankle now hurting more than ever, she turned to face the others, her lips thinning.

"Pick that up," she told Abraham, gesturing to the two or three shards of wood still scattered on the floor, overlooked in the chaos.

"You're not in charge, lil lady," Abraham said, puffing his chest out as he swaggered over to her. "_I_ am."

"We've all got jobs to do," Beth said from between gritted teeth, "so goddamn get doin' them."


	15. Least Of All You

**Least Of All You **

"This is where we get our meals," Daryl said to Raeanne as he led her into the cafeteria, his worn hand gesturing carelessly to the tureens of congealed food on display. "Just ignore the pricks with the clipboards though. They ain't worth shit."

Raeanne just nodded, her bright, bird-like gaze darting all over the cafeteria, taking in everything and missing nothing. Daryl glanced at her, brow furrowing slightly. Dr. Edwards had instructed him to show Raeanne the ropes, or he wouldn't be bothering, but she didn't seem to pay Daryl much mind, just nodding or ignoring him altogether.

She didn't seem to speak much either, not to anyone apart from Dawn, but Daryl suspected fear had been responsible for that. And she was clumsy as well, already down to her fifth change of clothes, despite only having just arrived at the hospital that morning. It was dinner-time now, and Raeanne hadn't improved much on closer acquaintance.

Not that Daryl cared. The only thing that disturbed him about Raeanne other than her dismissive attitude, was Gorman's interest in her. He'd tried dropping the girl a hint, but she'd showed no response, forcing him to be blunt to the point of obscenity. But still there'd been no reaction, only a blank wide-eyed gaze serving as his answer.

As Raeanne reached for a tray, Gorman came over, a grin spreading over his bruised face at the prospect of fresh prey. But Daryl stepped in front of him, unconsciously squaring his shoulders. Gorman tilted his head to the side, feigning nonchalance, but he didn't say anything, both of them thinking of the beating Daryl had given him the other day in Joan's room.

"I'm just counting what you're taking, redneck," Gorman said almost reasonably.

"Fatherhood seems to be mellowin' you out, big guy," Daryl said from between gritted teeth, his fists clenching by his side.

* * *

><p>Daryl glanced at the clock on the wall opposite, wondering what the hell was taking Raeanne so long to get a clean shirt. He'd agreed to eat in the cafeteria at her behest, Raeanne finally deigning to speak to him, announcing she didn't want to eat in her room. Why she didn't, he didn't know, and she wouldn't elaborate any further on the subject. But Daryl had seen no harm in humouring her, so he'd sat down beside her, the two of them eating their dinner in surprisingly agreeable silence until she split her drink all over herself, staining her blue shirt with blackberry cordial.<p>

Sighing heavily, he picked up Raeanne's tray, deliberately leaving his own empty one on the table for Gorman to clear. If it led to trouble, so be it. Heading for the door, he managed to leave without Gorman seeing him, Gorman being too busy berating Percy over taking too much rice. Daryl checked Raeanne's room first, but she wasn't there, confusing him even more. The only thing he could think of was the laundry room, so he headed there, picking up his pace as he heard Dawn's voice become raised from behind the door of her office.

Pushing open the door to the laundry room with the palm of his hand, balancing the tray in his other, Daryl stepped inside, only to freeze at the sight of Raeanne locked in a passionate embrace with Noah. He just stood there, shocked, until Noah hastily disengaged himself from Raeanne's almost cannibalistic grip, looking almost sheepish as his eyes met Daryl's.

"Close the door, bro," Noah said nervously, batting Raeanne's hands away.

Daryl shut the door, before setting the tray down on the table. Noah shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, making Daryl wonder uneasily if the youth thought Daryl was going to report him to Dawn or something for having relations with another ward. Daryl was vaguely aware this kind of thing was banned between wards, not that it bothered him, but he realised it would mean big trouble for Noah and Raeanne if somebody sold them out.

"It ain't none of my business, bro," Daryl said quietly, holding his hands up, "I ain't gonna go runnin' to Dawn 'bout some hanky-panky."

"It's not 'hanky-panky'," Raeanne retorted, startling Daryl, "me and Noah, we're together."

"We were dating before the Turn," Noah said quickly, "managed to get out of the city together. There's this place... it has walls, we were there for a long time, but I had to go and find my uncle, only family I had left. I couldn't live with myself any longer in leaving him behind. Ended up here though..."

"But we found each other again," Raeanne smiled, taking his hand. "We're meant to be together, no matter what."

Something in her face made Daryl look away, reminding him painfully of Beth.

"She came in here looking for a clean shirt," Noah gabbled, "thought I was hallucinating, man."

"That why you kept spillin' stuff on yourself?" Daryl said gruffly to Raeanne, making her duck her head shyly.

"Yeah," she said, not looking at him. "Had to see Noah."

Daryl just nodded. Then the door opened, making all three of them jump. But it was only Dr. Edwards, looking confused at seeing them all cramped together in the tiny room. His gaze then fell on the tray of food on the table, making his brow furrow.

"You know the rules, guys," he admonished, "no food in the laundry room."

"Sorry, man," Daryl said, not sorry in the slightest, "my fault."

"Well, get rid of it," Dr. Edwards snapped. "Raeanne, I need you. It's Trevitt."

* * *

><p>Daryl loitered in the doorway of Trevitt's room as Raeanne loaded Trevitt up with what she gleefully called 'Clozapine'. The glibness of her attitude towards the task made Daryl uneasy. Her general demeanour was one of offhandedness, dismissing what didn't suit her. He'd noted the way she treated Trevitt that morning, her flippant manner leading to the disaster with the catheter. It wasn't clumsiness, it was carelessness. And Dr. Edwards seemed to be as equally as careless towards her carelessness, displaying a kind of absentmindedness towards her attitude. The only reaction he'd shown was when she'd got urine on his shoes, as though that was more important to him than Trevitt's welfare.<p>

Why Raeanne had to be the one to dose Trevitt up, Daryl didn't know. He could only reason that it was part of her so called training as Dr. Edwards's assistant. As Raeanne pulled the needle out of Trevitt's arm, Daryl turned away, only to nearly collide with Noah and his mop. Muttering an apology, Daryl made to move past Noah, figuring it best to leave the two lovebirds alone, not wanting to be treated to another display of public affection.

But as he did, alarms started ringing, the hospital monitors going crazy. For a mad moment, he thought he'd set something off, but as Noah rushed into the room, casting his mop aside, Daryl realised it was Raeanne who was responsible, her face draining of blood, hand flying to her mouth as Trevitt started seizing on the bed.

"Doc! _Doc!_" Daryl hollered out into the hall, Dr. Edwards coming running out of his office.

"What is it!?" Dr. Edwards bellowed as he dashed towards Daryl.

"It's Trevitt!" Daryl explained, his fists clenching and unclenching by his sides. "He's havin' some sort of fit, man!"

Dr. Edwards rounded the side of the bed, shoving Raeanne and Noah aside, Dawn bursting into the room, nearly knocking Daryl over, Gorman and O'Donnell hard on her heels.

"What the hell is going on?" Dawn screamed, trying to restrain the jerking Trevitt.

"I - I" - Raeanne stuttered, her eyes filling with tears.

"It was an accident," Noah broke in, his bloodless face suddenly blank, "I was cleaning the floor, must have unplugged the ventilator somehow" -

Trevitt suddenly fell still, his face underneath his oxygen mask becoming almost unearthly in its peacefulness. For a moment, Daryl envied him for his respite. Without a word, Dr. Edwards stepped forwards, taking out a large pair of silver scissors from the inside of his white coat.

"Ain't you gonna try an' resuscitate him or somethin'!?" Daryl exclaimed in disbelief.

Dr. Edwards just rammed the scissor-blade through the side of Trevitt's head.

Daryl took a step back, starting to feel like the walls of the room were closing in on him.

"Your conscience bothering you, redneck?" O'Donnell said quietly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's enough," Dawn said, her green eyes glittering in her pale face. "And what did I say about those scissors, Edwards?" she spat, jerking her head at them in his hands.

"That you never wanted to see them again?" Dr. Edwards hazarded, his own face suddenly contorted with loathing.

"Just give me them," Dawn hissed, snatching them from his fingers. "Take him to my office," she then ordered, signalling to Gorman to grab Noah, Gorman more than ready to do her dirty work, leering at Raeanne as he did so.

"Dawn, it was an accident," Dr. Edwards argued, but she just barged past him, ignoring him.

"Noah - what he said, that's not what happened!" Raeanne cried, rushing up to Dr. Edwards. "Trevitt - he - he just started seizing" -

- "You gave him Clomazapan, right?" Dr. Edwards said, brow furrowing.

"Cl - Cl - Clozapine," Raeanne stuttered, trying and failing to wipe away the tears falling down her face, "you said Clozapine!"

Dr. Edwards just shook his head, before turning and leaving the room.

"Please! Stop!" Noah screamed from Dawn's office. "Don't" -

- "Tell them to stop it!" Raeanne screamed, Daryl grabbing her from behind as she struggled to reach Noah. "I have to stop it!"

"Ain't nobody can stop them, girl," Daryl hissed. "Least of all you."

_I don't know how I got here but I refuse to stay__  
><em>_I betrayed myself when I let others have their way__  
><em>_But I am holding on__  
><em>_The sound of my heart pounding tells me there's still hope_

_But people don't like it when you put up a fight__  
><em>_And slowly, ever so slowly, I am losing mine..._


	16. The Brink Of Breaking

**The Brink Of Breaking **

"Can't see nothin'," Abraham growled, fist clenching around his shard of wood.

Sasha kicked the wall in frustration, Michonne turning away, Carl burying his face in her shoulder. In the last few moments, there had been shouting, some sort of disturbance taking place, but whether it was their people or something else altogether, they didn't know -

Beth and the others froze upon hearing the scattered sound of gunshots. They looked at each other, confused. Then the explosion hit, rocking the train car, sending them flying, Beth crashing into Eugene, the mulletted man screaming like a girl as they hit the ground, Beth's head almost comically colliding with his foot. For several long moments, they all lay sprawled on the floor, paralyzed by shock, stunned as the train car settled into stillness again. It was Abraham who got up first, dragging himself to his feet, asking Eugene if he was alright, before barking at the others to get their goddamn asses into gear, his voice galvanising them back into being.

Eugene helped Beth to her feet, apologizing for screaming in such a manner, Beth dazed, dismissing him with her hand. Then her ankle nearly gave way beneath her. She bit down a cry of pain, grabbing the wall for support instead.

"What the hell is goin' on!?" Abraham roared, slamming his fists against the sliding door in frustration.

"Someone hit 'em," Rosita said quickly, glancing at Tara.

"Sounds like they hit them hard," Tara rejoindered.

"But was it our people or someone else?" Sasha demanded. "Have they gotten free?"

Beth glanced up at Maggie, her sister's face bloodless in the gloom. With Glenn gone, Maggie looked on the brink of breaking. But she seemed to be holding herself together, even it was just barely by the skin of her teeth.

"Excuse me," Eugene said, barging past Beth, his head jutting forwards like a bull's, his shoulders hunched. As he knelt down in front of the sliding door, Abraham booting it for good measure, Beth went over to him, confused, her head still spinning.

"What the hell are you doin'?" she asked.

"I might be able to use this shell to compromise the door," Eugene explained in a monotone. "From the sound of things, there might not be anybody left to open it."

"Eugene, I'm sorry, but shut up," Rosita snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "We don't need your lame ass observations right now."

"Hey," Carl said, stepping forwards, away from Michonne, making them all look at him, "my dad's coming back. They all are."

"They are," Maggie echoed, speaking up, her voice surprisingly steady. "And we need to be ready to fight our way out of here with them when they do."

"It's like Beth said," Carl continued, "we've all got jobs to do, so we better get doing them."

* * *

><p>"What's the cure, Eugene?" Sasha asked, her voice shattering the silence.<p>

"It's classified," Eugene replied, his tone almost robotic.

"You don't know what's goin' to happen," Michonne said coldly as she turned her sword sheath into a makeshift spear, "so you should tell us."

"You heard the man, it's classified," Abraham said, standing up.

"We need to keep working," Maggie admonished, attempting to break up the argument.

"We don't know what's coming next though," Sasha argued, refusing to let it drop, "so he should at least tell us."

"Leave him be," Abraham said dangerously.

"What's next is we get outta here," Beth said, silencing them all.

Maggie nodded at Beth, looking almost grateful for her intervention. Beth bit her lip, before turning her attention back to the destruction reigning outside. There were Walkers everywhere, several battering their dead hands off the outside of the train car, trying to reach those within its walls. Something had struck Terminus, tearing it down, but whether it was friend or foe, she didn't know. Despite her words, her hope was slipping that Rick and the others would return, but she hid it, maintaining her look-out, her gaze desperately scanning the ravaged horizon -

"They're comin'!" Beth shrieked, completely losing her head, clutching the wall for support as she caught a glimpse of Rick and the others running towards the train car, gunning down Walkers as they ran.

"Get ready to move, folks!" Abraham ordered, hauling Eugene to his feet.

Several sickening seconds passed until the door was slid open, revealing a blood-splattered Rick, his face wild, the others keeping the Walkers at bay behind him.

"Come on!" he bellowed. "Head for the fence!"

"What about Daryl!?" Beth screamed at him as she was shoved along.

"He ain't here!" Rick shouted back. "We checked!"

Beth leapt from the train car, only for her ankle to give way under her. She hit the ground with a scream, the pain ricocheting up her leg. The next thing she knew, she was being swung over Abraham's shoulder, his booming voice almost deafening her as he yelled at the others to _KEEP GOING! _The world whirled past her, a bewildering mix of Walkers and smoke, the sound of gunfire making her head spin even more. Then she was being shoved over a fence, the barbed wire catching on her cardigan, somebody grabbing her on the other side before she hit the ground again.

* * *

><p>"What the hell are we still around here for?" Abraham demanded, setting Beth back onto the ground. The journey through the woods had cleared her head, enough to let her get a grip of herself. The large scale destruction of Terminus had been dizzying, but now they were clear of its wrath, she'd started to feel more level-headed, much to her relief. Being carried like that by Abraham had been humiliating, but she had enough sense to realise he'd saved her life by doing so, not letting her stupidity slow them down.<p>

"We've got guns, some supplies," Rick said, digging up where he'd buried the bag of weapons, Michonne dragging down the crossbow from where Beth had hidden it up the tree, concealed by a thick canopy of leaves and branches. Michonne handed it to Beth, her face inscrutable as the girl almost snatched it from her.

"So what?" Abraham challenged. "You got guns, whoopedoo."

"Means we can go along the fences with the rifles and take down the rest of them," Rick said, unfazed.

The others looked at him in disbelief.

"What?" Carl asked, voicing what they were all thinking.

"They don't get to live," Rick said, glancing up at his son.

"Rick, we got out," Glenn said slowly, "it's over."

"It's not over until they're all dead," Rick said, picking up his Python, weighing it in his hand, letting his fingers curl around its trigger, familiarizing himself with an old friend. "Eugene, Carl and Beth will stay here with Rosita and Tara, and the rest of us will end this and end it now."

"I ain't stayin' behind," Beth protested, clutching the crossbow to her.

"You slowed us down back there," Rick said ruthlessly, "I ain't havin' you doin' that again."

Beth bit her lip, reluctantly recognizing his logic.

"Let's go," Rick said, standing up, the others mutinous.

"Like hell we are," Abraham intoned, stepping forwards.

"That place is on fire," Rosita argued, "none of us are goin' back there, not in a million years."

"The fences are down, Rick," Maggie said, getting in between Rick and Rosita, "they'll run or die."

Rick's jaw tightened, his grey gaze taking on that blank look Beth had half noticed from before, making his eyes look vacant, like a Walker's. It was as if Rick was slowly starting to shut down, unable to function in the face of survival. Then a figure stepped out from between the trees, her face pale, almost serene at seeing the man who'd barred her from her family, forcing her to walk the road, the man she'd just saved despite this. Rick stepped forwards, almost disbelievingly, life returning to his eyes, exorcizing the ghost of guilt.

"You have to come with me," Carol said quietly.

_These vultures from the past, coming__  
><em>_In all the hells and worlds, the time has come__  
><em>_Delivered from their eyes__  
><em>_I'm leaving this behind - the gift of guilt..._


	17. Head Above Water

**Head Above Water**

"It's not as bad as it looks," Noah reassured Raeanne, the girl cramming her fist into her mouth at the sight of his battered face.

Daryl looked away, his blood boiling in his veins. He'd been forced by Dawn to dump Trevitt down the lift shaft, revulsion at being near her nearly making him overcome reason. But Dawn had been mercifully dismissive of him, leaving him be as she returned to her office, slamming the door behind her. Daryl had gone to Joan's room for respite, unable to bear being near the hysterical Raeanne, Joan listening to his low words, her brow furrowing at this latest turn of events. But then Dr. Edwards had come in to check her stitches, forcing Daryl to leave his only shelter and seek another.

He'd retreated to the laundry room, only to find Noah behind the ironing board once more, surprisingly upbeat, trying to calm down Raeanne who was going crazy over what had happened, the incident stripping the scales from her eyes, making her see how serious the situation was at the hospital. He watched as Raeanne reached out to touch Noah's face, tears still rolling down her own, her outstretched fingers making Noah flinch, as though in expectation of a blow. Before they could make contact with his bruised flesh, he took a step back, trying to hide his pain with a false smile.

"You're lying to me!" Raeanne raged. "It does hurt!"

Noah rolled his eyes almost playfully. "Watch," he grinned, flicking the side of his head with his finger-tips.

Raeanne looked disbelieving of his lack of reaction.

"Painkillers," Noah said, grinning for real now. "It really doesn't hurt."

Raeanne just shook her head before stalking out of the laundry room, her dark hair swishing behind her. Noah watched her go, the door slamming shut as he slumped against the shelves.

"She owes you," Daryl said darkly. "For takin' that beatin' for her."

"She owes me nothing," Noah snapped. "I love her, and that's what you do. You take a bullet for the people you love."

Daryl looked away, feeling suddenly ashamed of himself.

"Maybe that's not how it works for you," Noah continued, "you seem prepared to sacrifice yourself for anyone."

Daryl glanced up, brow furrowing.

"I know you took a kicking for Percy," Noah said, sighing heavily. "And that's the difference between you and me."

Silence.

"Dawn wanted Trevitt for something," Noah then said quietly, glancing at the door. "Now he's gone, her attention will shift back to you."

"Don't worry 'bout me," Daryl said just as quietly, "worry 'bout yourself an' your girl. Gorman's got his eye on her."

"I know," Noah said, swallowing hard. "But I've made my plans."

Before Daryl could ask what these plans were, remembering how he sensed Noah was up to something, Dr. Edwards stuck his head round the door, brow furrowing at the sight of Daryl and Noah together. But then he smiled, pushing his glasses back with his forefinger.

"Don't look so scared, guys," Dr. Edwards smiled, "I'm not Dawn."

"What's up, Doc?" Daryl asked uneasily as Noah looked away, his jaw tightening.

"I have something to show you," Dr. Edwards said, "if you'd care to come into my office."

* * *

><p>Daryl turned the pieces of wood over in his hands, thinking of what Noah had said. Dawn had wanted Trevitt for something, echoing the hospital's unspoken motto of use everything you can use, just like she was trying to use Daryl as a back door to securing the wards' loyalty. But her plan was nuts, because Daryl didn't have the wards' loyalty, and he doubted he ever would.<p>

It was all in Dawn's head that he was the answer to her problems. What she'd wanted Trevitt for, he didn't know, and he didn't really care. Now Trevitt was dead, her attention would shift back to him, and with it, her bizarre attempts at seducing him onto her side. He set the pieces of wood back down on the desk, glancing up as Dr. Edwards put on a record, the crackling music filling the room with an unsteady beat.

"You like it?" Dr. Edwards asked, gesturing to the gramophone.

Daryl just shrugged his shoulder. "Sure as hell ain't no jukebox," he said, trying not to think of Beth, the songs she used to sing.

Dr. Edwards sat down, shoving a pile of folders aside, knocking a booklet to the floor. "I used to feel like I was drowning in research," he said, sighing heavily as he bent down to pick it up, "now the oceans are dry, and I'm suffocating of boredom."

"You're lucky, man," Daryl scoffed, "if ya feel safe 'nough to be bored."

Dr. Edwards just studied him for a moment, folding his hands across his chest. "You don't like me much, do you?" he said, startling Daryl. "You think I could have made more of an effort to save Trevitt - that I could make more of an effort in everything in general."

"I is j'st seein' what I'm seein'," Daryl said, voice low. "You stand up to Dawn, then you back down."

"I can only do so much," Dr. Edwards replied, "and I know my limits. Unlike you."

Daryl just gnawed his lower lip, eyes narrowing.

"Dawn's letting you almost get away with murder," Dr. Edwards said, putting his feet up on the desk, "I mean, battering Gorman to a pulp like that without even a word being said about it?" He let out a low whistle. "She only tolerates my little outbursts because she needs me as a cog in her machine. But you? You're dispensable. So I'd watch my step if I were you, Daryl."

"Hey, you're the one that gets to kick back, listenin' to records, eatin' guinea pig an' gerbil," Daryl growled, "the rest of us is j'st tryin' to keep our heads above the water."

"They're just perks of being the only doctor here," Dr. Edwards said, "if I didn't have letters after my name, I'd be like you. In fact, I _am_ like you. The more I take, the more I owe. I have to pay it back, just like you."

"What 'bout that ward Gorman knocked up?" Daryl said, gesturing to the pieces of wood. "Is she gonna owe you for gettin' her these toys? Is she gonna owe me for makin' them for her?"

"Do you want her to owe you?"

"Hell, no!"

Dr. Edwards just nodded, his face inscrutable.

"If you're not on Dawn's side, whose side are you on?" Daryl asked from between gritted teeth. "Why do you do her dirty work if you hate her so much?"

"Come with me," Dr. Edwards said suddenly, getting to his feet. "I'd like you to see something."

* * *

><p>"Welcome to the ground floor of Grady Memorial Hospital," Dr. Edwards intoned, leading Daryl down the dark corridor, some sort of large vent up ahead. "This isn't a way out, so don't get any ideas."<p>

Daryl's eyes narrowed, wondering what the hell the doc was up to, why he'd brought him here. "What's the score, bro?" Daryl growled, his fists clenching by his sides.

Dr. Edwards just ignored him, bending down and picking up a piece of broken pipe instead, before running it along the slats like somebody running their fingers down a row of piano keys, the action oddly reminding Daryl of Beth for a moment. Suddenly Walkers were slamming themselves against the vent, making Daryl involuntarily take a step back, his fists flying up in front of him.

"When I start thinking about it too much," Dr. Edwards said quietly, gesturing to the Walkers, "I come down here and look at this."

Then he turned and walked away, Daryl watching him go.

_You're dark grey like a storm cloud_  
><em>Swelling up with rage that is desperate to be let out<em>  
><em>And I know it's a heavy load carrying those tears around<em>  
><em>Carrying those fears around, worry makes the world go round...<em>


	18. Give Me Strength, Give Me Sanctuary

**Give Me Strength, Give Me Sanctuary **

"Where's Daryl?" Carol asked as she led their way through the woods, glancing over her shoulder at the others as they moved, trying and failing to keep her voice steady at not seeing Daryl amongst their number.

"He's... gone," Beth said, her heart twisting in her chest.

Carol glanced at the crossbow, tears glimmering in her grey eyes. "He's dead?" she said, forcing herself to hold it together.

Beth shook her head. "Nothin' can kill a Dixon except a Dixon, remember?" Beth said, smiling bitterly.

Carol exhaled sharply with relief, looking away for a moment to compose herself.

"You should clarify your statements, young lady," Eugene said pompously, "or you'll continue to impair the transmission of data between yourself and other living bi-peds."

"Back off, Eugene," Maggie spat, startling them all. "We're all reeling from what just happened, not just her. If I remember correctly, you were the one screaming like a girl back there, not Beth."

"Tone down the aggro, Greene," Abraham said dangerously, "I just saved your sister's sweet ass in there."

"Hey, don't speak to my wife like that," Glenn flared up. "And don't talk about my sister-in-law like that either."

"Eugene has a point," Abraham said loftily, as though Glenn hadn't spoken, "kid should make it clear what she's sayin'. If the guy's dead, he's dead, an' she should damn well say so."

"He ain't dead," Beth said in an undertone.

"If you say so," Abraham said dismissively.

"_If_ she says so," Eugene muttered, "nobody knows what she's saying half the time."

Beth just limped ahead, unable to take it anymore. But Rick called her back, admonishing her for not staying close. Beth just nodded, mutinously murmuring an apology, falling into step beside Maggie again, who smiled encouragingly at her, smoothing back a tangled blonde wave off her sister's face. Nothing much had been said between the sisters, but Beth felt silence would heal the wound more than words could.

The group slowed at the sight of a small shack of sorts up ahead, a battered looking vehicle parked outside it. A figure emerged from inside, carrying something in their arms. Beth grabbed Maggie's arm for support, her other hand flying to her mouth. Back at the prison, she'd gone back for the children, but all she'd found was a blood-spattered baby's car seat. But now...

One moment Beth was there, then she was gone, casting aside the crossbow and running towards Tyreese, Rick and Carl right behind her, her aching ankle completely forgotten. Then Judith was in her arms, Beth burying her face in her wispy fair hair, offering up a fervent prayer of thanks to God for returning Judith to her, praying that He would do the same with Daryl.

_It is you Lord__  
><em>_Who knows my weakness__  
><em>_Who gives me strength__  
><em>_With thine own hand..._

* * *

><p>Beth stroked Judith's hair, the baby tugging on Rick's beard whilst clutching Carl's finger. The three adults were revolving around Judith like the sun, unable to bear being away from her for more than a few seconds. The others hung back, Sasha hanging onto her brother's arm, the rest surveying the column of smoke in the distance. Rick's gaze found Carol's, and for the umpteenth time he mouthed, "thank you," Carol inclining her head, before turning away. Beth watched this bit of byplay, wondering why Carol's return had made Rick react so.<p>

"What happened here?" Sasha asked, eying the Walkers littering the ground.

"There was a... incident," Tyreese said reluctantly, something in his voice making Carol glance sharply at him.

"What kind of incident?" she demanded, striding forwards.

"He had his hands round Judith's neck," Tyreese said in an undertone, refusing to meet everyone's eyes. In an instant, Carol was making for the shack, Rick passing Judith to Beth as he pulled out his machete, his ravaged face murderous. "Hold up!" Tyreese bellowed, making them freeze. "He's dead. I had to..." he said, voice shaking, "so I did." Sasha laid her hand on his arm, her jaw tightening. Her brother hated shedding blood, whether it was of the dead or the living, but unlike him, she firmly believed it was necessary.

Rick stowed away his machete, face still murderous as he picked up Judith again, Beth relinquishing the baby with some reluctance. Carl petted Judith on the head, his face filling with adoration as he took her chubby hand in his again. Michonne came over, she and Carl exchanging smiles, the others smiling as well, even Sasha and Tyreese, Carl's happiness contagious. After all they had been through, this was their reward, the reunion of their family.

"We need to go," Abraham said, stepping forwards, exchanging a glance with Rosita.

"But where?" Glenn asked, taking Maggie's hand.

"As far away as possible," Rick said quietly.

* * *

><p><em>Lord prepare me to be a sanctuary<em>_  
><em>_Pure and holy, tried and true__  
><em>_With thanksgiving I'll be a living__  
><em>_Sanctuary for you..._

Beth limped to a halt in front of the sign, her eyes reading the message of hope one last time. There was no sanctuary to be found at Terminus, not anymore, and there never had been. Rick handed the can of spray-paint to her, watching as the girl obliterated the lie that had led so many to their doom. As she wrote NO above SANCTUARY, Rick looked at the far horizon, shielding his eyes with his hand against the glare of the sun.

"Come on," Beth said, handing him the spray-paint, "we've done what we can."

Rick nodded, the two of them setting off after the others just up ahead, leaving the train-tracks behind. The group walked for a while in the shade of the trees, all on the alert for the dead and the living, weapons half raised, eyes wide open. They slowed for a swift rest-stop, Beth giving Judith a bottle, grudgingly allowing Carl to feed Judith instead. As he did so, Beth drifted away from the rest of the group, her mind half on them, the other on Daryl.

She watched as Glenn and Maggie embraced, Tara and Rick talking quietly behind a tree, their voices low, their body language unconsciously warning the others to keep their distance, Abraham and Rosita flanking Eugene as he stood staring off into the distance, Michonne hovering by Carl and Judith like a mother hen, Tyreese sitting beside Bob and Sasha who were holding hands.

"What... what happened to Daryl?" Carol asked, coming up the side of Beth, startling her.

Beth looked away, her lower lip trembling. "We got out the prison together," Beth said with some difficulty, before taking a moment to steady herself.

"He saved you?" Carol said gently.

"I saved myself," Beth retorted, making Carol take a step back.

"I'm sorry," Beth said tiredly, pushing the hair of her eyes. "I" -

- "It's alright," Carol assured her, looking worried.

"Daryl was taken," Beth said abruptly, "by who, I don't know - there was just a black car with a white cross, an' he was gone. I tried to follow it, but I fell behind, I couldn't keep up."

"It's not on you," Carol said, laying her hand on Beth's arm.

Beth just looked away again, her gaze falling on Daryl's crossbow where she'd laid it against a tree. Then her head jerked up as a scream tore through the silence.


	19. Welcome To Hell

**Welcome To Hell **

_Welcome to hell__  
><em>_Welcome to hell that's what I heard them sing__  
><em>_Welcome to hell yeah__  
><em>_Oh we're so happy that you're here today_

_There's a warden waiting to meet me__  
><em>_As I make my way inside of the jail__  
><em>_He smiles at me ever so sweetly__  
><em>_And sends to me on route to my cell_

_Welcome to hell__  
><em>_Welcome to hell that's what I heard them sing__  
><em>_Welcome to hell yeah__  
><em>_Oh we're so happy that you're here today..._

Daryl carried the toolbox down the corridor, shoulders hunched. Dawn's exercise bike had broken down earlier that morning, and she'd summoned him to fix it, standing over him until he'd sorted it to her satisfaction. He'd been in her office for a good hour or more, each second spent in her company making his skin crawl. But he'd forced himself to put a face on, blandly doing as he was told so she'd keep believing he was on her side. The sight of the filing cabinets and cupboards she kept locked up had caught his attention, but he'd been careful to keep his head down, focusing on the task at hand. Then Dawn had reluctantly released him, her gaze boring into his back as he left.

As he strode past Joan's room, nodding his head at her as he passed, Daryl slowed down at the sound of Raeanne giving what for, her voice reaching unheard of decibels. "Keep your goddamn hands off my ass, Gorman!" she shrieked, making Daryl start forwards, just in time to see Raeanne give Gorman a good shove, knocking him onto his own fat ass.

Daryl leant against the wall, the corner of his lips curling up into a vicious sneer as O'Donnell barged past him, his face contorted with rage. "How dare you assault a police officer!" O'Donnell roared, lunging at Raeanne.

"And how dare you assault my boyfriend!" Raeanne screeched back, raking her nails down his cheek.

"What the hell is going on here!?" Dawn shouted, appearing out of nowhere. "Get in your rooms, now!" she hurled at the gaping wards. Daryl came forwards, only for Dawn to whirl on him. "What did I say, Dixon?" she snarled, something in her suddenly feral face making him take a step back.

* * *

><p>Daryl paced the floor of his room, gnawing his nails, sensing another shit-storm was about to break. He flinched at hearing Raeanne's muffled cries as Dawn beat her, punishing her for daring to step out of line and stand up for herself. The sound took him back to his tormented youth; the unbuckling of his father's belt, the deep-seated sting of the leather against the bare flesh of his back. Then there was silence, a long drawn out vortex of nothing that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.<p>

"Daryl?"

Daryl slowly turned around, only to see Dawn standing in the doorway of his room, her face strangely flushed, tears glittering in her green eyes. Without any warning, she rushed forwards, flinging herself into his arms, leaning her head against his chest, making his heart stop in shock. She glanced up at him, almost expectantly, like she needed something from him, and Daryl sickeningly realised that unless he wanted to leave the room alive, he had to give in. He had to surrender.

Gritting his teeth, he bent his head to hers, his rough lips brushing her brow, making her lean against his chest again, a small sigh escaping her throat, the sound setting his nerves on edge. His calloused hands reluctantly clasped her elbows, holding her close to him, Dawn closing her eyes, like she was relishing making Daryl bend to her will. For several long moments, they stood like that, the oppressed comforting the oppressor, then Dawn drew away from Daryl, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"You know I didn't want to punish Raeanne, don't you?" she asked, her voice very small, making her sound like a little girl begging for understanding. "But I had to, she made me do it."

Daryl nodded, forcing himself to run his thumb over her cheek, the gesture uncharacteristically gentle. But it wasn't Dawn he was seeing; it wasn't Dawn he'd held so awkwardly in his arms. It had been Beth with her intrinsic hope and kindness, his light in the darkness. She was here with him, still guiding him home to her side. Something of his thoughts showed in his face, Dawn mistaking the tender light in his eyes as being meant for her, making her suddenly pull his stubbled face down to hers, her claw-like fingers entangling themselves in his shaggy hair.

It was like somebody had struck Daryl over the head with a blunt object, stunning him. The insistent pressure of her lips on his caught him off-guard, he who always slept with one eye open, always staying one step ahead of what was left of the human race. As she pressed herself against him, the handle of her gun digging into his hip, he stopped himself from shoving her away from him, forcing himself to mechanically respond to her advances, choking down the revulsion rising in him. Then Dawn pulled away from him, leaning her forehead against his instead, her green gaze tracing his rugged features almost lovingly.

"You ending up here..." Dawn said softly, making Daryl's stomach turn, "maybe... maybe that means something. Not just for us, but for the hospital, what I'm trying to build here. You understand my vision when no-one else does. You support me when the others don't. You're important, Daryl - you're important to me."

Daryl just nodded, words failing him. Dawn smiled up at him, before dropping a kiss on his bruised knuckles. As she turned and left the room, Daryl watched her go, waiting until the sound of her footsteps faded into oblivion before turning and throwing up all over the floor.

* * *

><p>Daryl stood on the roof-top, staring out at the sun setting on the far horizon, Noah standing beside him, hands rammed into his pockets. Daryl wanted to be alone, but Noah didn't seem to be getting the message, remaining resolutely glued to Daryl's side. They'd been on the roof for some time now, the other wards giving them a wide berth. Noah had dropped by Daryl's room to drop off some clean laundry, only to find Daryl hunched over on the floor, a puddle of vomit crusting by his feet. Without a word, Noah had cleaned the mess up, before leading Daryl outside, saying quietly Daryl could use some fresh air. And here they were, united by silence, divided by secrets.<p>

"I'm sorry about Raeanne," Daryl said with some difficulty.

"She'll live," Noah said with even more difficulty.

Daryl just nodded, eyes narrowing as he stared out at the horizon again. Beth was out there somewhere, still surviving, still hoping for a better world. He refused to believe she was gone, just another dead girl. She didn't need him to survive. He hadn't saved her, she'd saved herself. If anyone needed saving, it was him, but the calvary weren't coming, not now. He glanced at the ground far below, the Walkers stumbling amongst the vehicles. There was no escape to be found down there, and if someone was stupid enough to seek it, they'd be shot by the guards stationed on the roof-top above.

"Do you wanna grab something to eat?" Noah said hesitantly, something in Daryl's face almost stopping him from making the suggestion.

"Sure," Daryl grunted, taking one last glance at the distant horizon before turning to head inside. As they made their way to the canteen, Dawn came out of her office, looking pissed off.

"Move along, Noah," she fired at the youth, who did as he was told, hastily heading to the canteen. "Daryl, my bike has given up the ghost again," Dawn then said coldly, "I need you to take another look at it."

Daryl forced his face into bland lines. "Lemme get ma toolbox," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

"It's not _your _toolbox, Daryl," Dawn reprimanded, "it belongs to the hospital, and you'll find it in the cupboard at the end of the hall, where Percy had to put it away after you left it lying outside your room."

"Sorry," Daryl muttered, averting his eyes from hers, not in the slightest bit sorry.

"Well, don't just stand there brooding," Dawn snapped, "go and get the goddamn thing. I haven't got all day."

Daryl stalked off, shoulders hunched, his stomach turning at the prospect being in the same room as Dawn, her body too close to his, her breath on his skin, her fingers brushing his face. As he fetched the toolbox from the cupboard, he glanced at the closed doors of Raeanne's and Joan's rooms, something about the sight of them disturbing him. He made his way back to Dawn's office, only to hesitate in the doorway at Gorman and Dawn locked in an intense conversation, their heads close together, Dawn's eyes icy cold in the blank mask of her face.

"Is it done?" Dawn was asking in an undertone.

"It was _very _well done," Gorman grinned, "if I may say so myself."

Dawn just nodded her head, only to glance up as Daryl stepped through the doorway, carrying the toolbox by his side, his face as blank as hers, his eyes just as inscrutable.

"Hey, redneck," Gorman said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Dr. Edwards was looking for you earlier."

Daryl just shrugged his shoulders, standing his ground as Gorman advanced on him, his bruised face mocking, eyes filled with an odd exultation. "Is that a speck of vomit you have on your shirt, Dixon?" Gorman sneered, making Dawn recoil.

"Go and get a clean shirt, Daryl," she ordered, "you know the rules. Wards must be immaculate at all times."

Dawn just shook his head at Gorman before turning and leaving the room, setting his toolbox down on the ground by the door as he went. "If you go down to the woods today..." Gorman sing-songed, his voice echoing down the corridor after Daryl.

Daryl resisted the urge to flick Gorman the middle finger, making his way to the laundry room instead. But as he pushed the door open, he was confronted with a sickening sight. Huddled in a far corner was Raeanne, her clothes ripped, a black eye beginning to bloom on her face. She looked up as she came in, her eyes wide with terror behind the curtain of long dark hair, her lip bleeding.

"Jesus Christ," Daryl hissed, closing the door behind him, making her whimper. "It's alright, I ain't gonna hurt ya," he said quietly as he went over to her, careful to keep his distance.

She just stared at him, face vacant with fear. There were bruises forming on her wrists, looking like the imprints of fingers.

"Was it Gorman?" he demanded, not bothering to stand on ceremony.

She nodded, tears rolling down her face.

Daryl stood there for a long moment before turning and punching the wall. Over and over he punched it, until his knuckles were a bloodied mess. He didn't even look up when the door creaked open, his mind only focused on the pain.

"Hey!" Noah said, grabbing Daryl's arm, forcing him to stop. "What the hell are you" - His voice cut off as he caught sight of the girl huddled in the corner, the blood draining from his face. "Raeanne?" he whispered, kneeling down in front of her.

"It was that bastard Gorman," Daryl spat, "I'm gonna fuckin' kill 'im!"

Noah leapt to his feet, pinning Daryl against the wall, his face inches from his, eyes bulging. "You do nothing and you say nothing," Noah hissed, "because this is nothing to do with you."

And with that, he shoved Daryl away from him, before turning back to Raeanne.


	20. Four Walls And A Roof

**Four Walls And A Roof **

"Help! Somebody help me! Oh, Lord please help me!"

They all froze, Beth whirling round, her hand automatically reaching for a weapon she no longer had. Her gun had been taken at Terminus, along with the knife in her boot, and now she had nothing. Nobody had seen fit to arm her in the aftermath of their escape, and she hadn't wanted to push the point, especially with Abraham and Eugene observing her every move, ready to criticise and critique. She sensed they just saw her as a stupid kid, slowing them down, being a typical blonde.

"Dad, come on!" Carl said, breaking the impasse as he passed Judith to Michonne, snatching up his rifle instead.

Rick just looked at his son, his face hardening.

"You can't just leave a man to die!" Beth protested, limping forwards.

Silence.

"Michonne and Eugene, you both stay here," Rick then ordered, pulling out his Python, "Carl and Beth, your first priority is Judith, do you get me?" The pair nodded, Beth going over and taking the now crying Judith from Michonne's arms, the baby reacting to the change of atmosphere, picking up on the tension. "The rest with me!" Rick bellowed, taking one last look at his baby daughter before leading the way, tracking the sound to its source.

Michonne watched them disappear amongst the trees, her face inscrutable as she raised Rick's machete, body coiled for action. Carl raised his rifle, head twitching at the slightest sound. Eugene remained rooted to the spot, his usually dull eyes now alive with fear beneath his mullet. Beth held Judith close to her, humming under her breath, trying to soothe the infant with song.

Then suddenly a Walker loomed out of nowhere, coming up Beth's blind side. She whirled, too stunned to scream, wildly lashing out with her foot as it lunged at her, knocking it to the ground, only to fall onto her backside as she did so, her ankle giving way beneath her. Before she could react, Carl was there, ramming the butt of his rifle into the Walker's head, crushing it to a bloody pulp. When it had fallen still, Carl turned to Beth, helping her to her feet, the pair of them checking Judith over as Michonne did a swift circuit of the clearing, checking there were no more Walkers in their midst, leaving Eugene cringing against a tree.

"She's alright," Beth breathed, dropping a kiss on Judith's brow.

Carl just nodded, his face pale beneath the dirt, before turning away from her and wiping his rifle butt clean on the grass, his hands shaking slightly. Michonne came over to Beth, standing beside her, machete still raised, her gaze taking Beth and the baby in from top to toe.

"You alright?" Michonne asked in an undertone.

"It's my ankle," Beth said in a low voice, wincing slightly as she unwillingly put weight on it, "it's pretty messed up."

Before Michonne could reply, Rick and the others emerged from the trees, leading a stranger in clerical garb at gunpoint. He had his hands raised above his head, his face terrified.

"This is Father Gabriel," Rick said, malice dancing in his grey eyes, "and he's going to lead us to the Promised Land."

* * *

><p>Beth entered the church with some trepidation, the crossbow slung over her shoulder, nostalgia and nerves battling for dominion in her heart. She had placed her hesitant trust in Terminus, only to nearly lose her life, and for what? For daring to hope for a better world, that there was something still out there in the heartless wilderness? And here she was again, somebody promising her another sanctuary, with her hoping against hope that it wasn't another lie, another attempt on their lives.<p>

But at the same time, as soon as she stepped foot over the threshold, she felt safe; she felt at home. Being here made her feel closer to her father, that he wasn't lost to her after all. She'd been brought up to believe in the word of God, and that Jesus loved the lost the best. As she stood at the altar, she closed her eyes and offered up a prayer for forgiveness, for the blood she'd shed, for what she may still have to do. She prayed for God to keep her on the right path, to guide her through the darkness that surely lay ahead; for Him to return Daryl to his family.

A hand closed over hers, making her open her eyes, only to see Maggie beside her, staring up at the stained glass windows, her face pale. Beth turned away, both girls closing their eyes now, praying for the father so cruelly taken from them, hoping he was at peace, that there was peace to be found here, that this wasn't just four walls and a roof, but holy ground.

_Lead me on Lord__  
><em>_From temptation__  
><em>_Purify me__  
><em>_From within__  
><em>_Fill my heart with__  
><em>_Your holy spirit__  
><em>_Take away all my sin..._

* * *

><p>Beth sat in one of the pews, the crossbow stashed underneath, holding Judith in her arms, trying not to wince as the baby tugged on her braid. Michonne stood by the door, Rick's machete raised, her face as inscrutable as ever. Eugene sat in the pew across the aisle from Beth, his gaze never settling on the one spot for long, Abraham sitting straightbacked beside him, flicking through a worn Bible, his face bored. Carl came out of Father Gabriel's office, clutching a box which would serve as a crib for Judith. He made his way over to Beth, sitting down beside her, setting the box down on the ground.<p>

"There's some bedding in Carol's backpack," Carl said in an undertone, as though loath to spoil the silence.

Beth nodded, smiling at him. Carl smiled back, secretly glad he and Beth were back on common ground, with him no longer resenting her return. Before, he would have walked a hundred miles for her smile, but not now. He had been a stupid kid then, with a stupid crush. But he'd outgrown that, even if he hadn't outgrown Beth. Yet at the same time, he felt like he was the adult and she was the child; he saw the world for what it was, whilst she still saw the world as it had been.

"Dad and the others will be back soon," Carl said, glancing at the church doors.

Beth just nodded again, before resting her cheek against Judith's downy head. Rick had gone out with the others to a food bank up the ways, after Father Gabriel had told them of it, probably hoping to curry favour. But Rick had forced the man to take them there, his reluctance to go reinforcing Rick's suspicions of a trap. Even though Rick had finally declared the church to be secure enough for them set up camp in, Beth knew he believed the opposite, that he viewed the church as another Terminus waiting to happen. But the same time, they had nowhere else to go, so they were staying put for the time being.

As she glanced over at Abraham and Eugene, the former caught her eye, trying to stare her down. She vaguely knew that Maggie and the others had met his group whilst out on the road, but other than that, she didn't know much about them. But Beth hadn't forgotten the bombshell he'd dropped about his group going to Washington for a cure, but with everything that had happened, the bombshell had taken a back seat. Yet as they looked at each other, Beth wondered why Abraham was hanging around, instead of continuing his journey. If the cure was so important to him as it seemed to be, why was he still here?

"You should sing," Carl said, startling her out of her thoughts.

"It's been so long since I've sung in a church," Beth said uneasily, raising her head.

"You did choir?"

Beth nodded.

"Just pretend you're back in choir, then," Carl said, hugging his knees to his chest.

Beth bit her lip before shifting Judith to her other arm, her voice sweet and clear as she began to sing, cleansing the church of its sins.

_Away, away  
>Come away with me<br>Where the grass grows wild, where the winds blow free  
>Away, away<br>Come away with me  
>And I'll build you a home in the meadow<em>

_Come, come_  
><em>There's a wondrous land<em>  
><em>For the hopeful heart, for the willing hand<em>  
><em>Come, come<em>  
><em>There's a wondrous land<em>  
><em>Where I'll build you a home in the meadow<em>

_The stars, the stars_  
><em>Oh how bright they'll shine<em>  
><em>On a world that the Lord must have helped design<em>  
><em>The stars, the stars<em>  
><em>Oh how bright they'll shine<em>  
><em>On that home we will build in the meadow<em>

_Come, come_  
><em>There's a wondrous land<em>  
><em>For the hopeful heart, for the willing hand<em>  
><em>Come. Come<em>  
><em>There's a wondrous land<em>  
><em>Where I'll build you a home in the meadow...<em>


	21. Bloodsport

**Bloodsport**

Beth glanced up as the church doors opened, Judith stirring in her arms at the sound. Rick and the others came in, dragging what appeared to be a mountain of food in their wake, the sight making Carl's eyes widen in anticipation. He got up to help, Beth smiling at Tyreese as he came over, his face taut with strain.

"Hey," Beth said, as Tyreese sat down beside her, Judith reaching for him.

"Hey," Tyreese replied, "may I?" he then asked, indicating Judith.

"Sure," Beth said, handing the baby to him.

"Hey there," Tyreese crooned, Judith nestling her head against his chest.

"How was it out there?" Beth asked in an undertone, watching Carl and the others as they unloaded a pile of plastic boxes onto the pews, Father Gabriel barging past them before collapsing down in front of the altar, his hands clasped together as he feverishly prayed for forgiveness from a God he'd turned his back on. Tyreese watched him for a few moments before turning to Beth.

"As it ever was," he said quietly.

Beth nodded, biting her lip, her gaze dwelling on Father Gabriel for a moment, something in his agitated demeanour disturbing her. "Would you mind watchin' Judy for a moment?" Beth asked. "I'd like to get some fresh air an' stretch my legs for a bit. My ankle's stiffened up somethin' awful."

"Sure, but you should take my knife," Tyreese said, handing it to her, careful to keep it away from Judith.

"Thanks," Beth said gratefully, tucking it into her cowboy boot.

"Just... just be careful, yeah?" Tyreese said, his smile not reaching his eyes.

Beth nodded, before turning and leaving.

* * *

><p>Daryl lay on his bed, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling, his hand bandaged to within an inch of its life, rage detaching him from reality, blood boiling through his veins. Regardless of what Noah said, Daryl was going to kill Gorman. There was no doubt about it now. It was just a case of when and where. He closed his eyes, letting the silence wash over him, refusing to let it soothe him.<p>

This was war, and there would be no peace until Gorman was dead. But there would be consequences and he couldn't fight with his hands alone, he needed weapons, something to even the odds. The only thing he could think of was hitting Dawn's office again and seeing what was inside those filing cabinets and cupboards she kept locked up.

He sat up, remembering how when he was fixing her bike the first time, Dawn had kept doing a nervous circuit of the room, checking the locks and testing the drawers to see if they were secure, watching him from the corner of her eye as she did so. He would bet his bottom dollar there was weaponry and ammunition in her office, enough to keep her awake at night anyways. All he had to do was access it, and he'd be hitting a home run -

"Hurry up! They're getting away!"

* * *

><p>"Hey," Rick said, coming over to Beth, "Tyreese said you'd be out here."<p>

"He's mindin' Judith for me," Beth said, her voice cracking slightly, "I just needed some air, that's all."

Rick nodded, glancing over his shoulder at Abraham who was fixing the church bus nearby. After returning with the food, the sight of it piled high on the pews lifting everyone's spirits, Abraham had announced he was going to check the vehicles out back, see if there was any transportation to be had. He'd struck lucky with the church bus, Carol spying a car further down the road that might be of use.

"What is it?" Rick asked, picking up on the tension coming from the girl.

"Read that, Rick," Beth said, her blue eyes filling with tears.

Rick strode forwards, leaning his hand against the whitewashed wood, his eyes narrowing as he read the last words of the dying. _YOU'LL BURN FOR THIS. _His gaze met Beth's, blue on blue, light colliding with darkness. "You don't tell anyone about this, do y'hear?" he said quickly, drawing close to her. "You let me deal with this, no one else."

Beth nodded, biting her lip.

* * *

><p>"You ungrateful little bitch!" Dawn screeched, her words swiftly punctuated by a loud slap, then another. Unable to bear the sound of Raeanne's sobbing, Daryl slipped into Joan's room, slamming the door behind him.<p>

"You heard then?" Joan said from the bed, her face pale in the dying light spilling through the window.

"Yeah, I heard," Daryl said, pacing the ground.

"At least Noah got out," Joan said, closing her eyes.

"Bastard left her behind to save his own skin," Daryl retorted.

"Raeanne's weak," Joan said, eyelids fluttering, "she probably couldn't keep up."

"Y'know 'bout happened to her, don't you?" Daryl spat. "That Gorman got her" –

- "I know what happened to her," Joan said, sitting up, her face filled with anger, "because it happened to me, and it'll happen again, and there's nothing you can do about it, Dixon, _nothing_."

"I can get you out of here," Daryl said, his voice cracking.

"I've just lost my arm," Joan reiterated, "I'm not going anywhere."

"My brother was like you," Daryl said suddenly, "lost his hand. Got handcuffed to a roof an' had to hack himself free. He was out on the road with no hand, no medical help or anythin'. He cauterized the stump himself. He made it on his own. If he can do it, so can you."

"And so can you," Joan said quietly, her gaze boring into his. "You do whatever it is you're planning to do, and get the hell out of here. Find your girl and find somewhere safe far away from this hell-hole. This ship is going down, and I'm going down with it. But you don't have to, Dixon. You can leave, you can survive. If you want to do anything, do that, for me."

* * *

><p>That night, the church was filled with chatter, everyone letting their guards down in the face of shelter and a decent meal. Beth sat away from the others, the secret she was keeping dividing her from them, only allowing Maggie to hand her a tin of pineapple chunks and nothing else. Unable to eat it, she set the tin down on the ground, before slipping her hand into her jean pocket, taking out her father's fob watch and the Washington DC souvenir spoon she'd stolen from the golf club. She ran her thumb over the frontispiece of the fob watch before putting it back in her pocket, knowing she should return it to Glenn, but feeling unable to just yet. It was all she had left of her father, and she wanted to hold onto it for just that bit longer.<p>

"I would like to propose a toast," Abraham intoned, something in his voice silencing them all. "I look around this room," he then said loftily, his gaze dwelling on each face in turn, "an' I see survivors. Each an' every one of you has earned that title." He raised his glass. "To the survivors!" he boomed, looking the closest to happy Beth had ever seen him.

Everyone echoed his salute, Abraham suddenly becoming serious as he looked round them all again.

"But is that all you wanna be?" he said quietly, silencing them once more. "Wake up in the mornin', fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep with two eyes open, rinse an' repeat." His gaze met Rick's for a moment. "You can do that," Abraham said, "I mean, you've got the strength, you've got the skill... Thing is, for you people, what you can't do is surrender. If we get Eugene to Washington, he will make the dead die an' the livin' will have this world again."

Rick looked at Abraham with doubt in his eyes, not sure if he could give what Abraham was asking for, if any of them could.

"Come with us," Abraham said, his gaze falling on Judith, "save the world for that little one."

As if in response, Judith crowed, flapping her small hand at her father, making a nervous laugh go round the room, releasing the tension. "I think she knows what I'm about to say," Rick grinned, making them all but Beth laugh again. Judith crowed once more, delighted with the reception she was getting. "Well, if she's in, I'm in," Rick said, dropping a kiss on her brow, "I s'pose... we're all in."

As everyone nodded in agreement, Abraham raising his glass again, face filled with triumph at achieving his end, Beth spoke up, her voice unsteady. "I'm not comin'," she said quietly, stunning them all.

"Beth" - Maggie began.

"I ain't comin'!" Beth bellowed, tears filling her eyes.

"An' why the hell not!?" Abraham said, stepping forwards.

Beth stared down at the spoon in her hand, remembering how she'd found it back in the golf club with Daryl, its etching of Washington D.C now striking her as oddly prophetic. "Because of Daryl," she said softly, steel lining her words.

Abraham glanced up at the ceiling, as though asking God to grant him patience. "Look sweetheart," Abraham said, struggling to keep his voice civil, "you've obviously not been payin' enough attention to the hell on earth we've been livin' in. So let me tell you how to best avoid endin' up a dead/alive piece of ass. You find some strong likeminded comrades an' you stay stuck together like wet on water. To put it in a nutshell, we need people, even people like you, an' the more, the better - but more importantly, _you _need us. Someone like you is not gonna to last two seconds out there on your own. So get it through your Barbie brain that whether you like it or not, we need each other, girl."

Beth stood up, her blood boiling in her veins. "I'm goin' to find Daryl an' none of you can stop me - _none _of you can," she said from between gritted teeth.

Abraham advanced on her, the stem of his glass threatening to break in his hand he was gripping it so tightly. "There is zero chance you will find your boyfriend again, alive or dead. He's gone, girl. so you come with us an' do somethin' with your life" -

Beth suddenly threw the spoon at him, striking him in the eye, blinding him. As he doubled up in agony, the spoon clattering to the floor, she just as suddenly bolted for the church doors, rage and grief anaesthetizing the pain in her ankle. Before anybody could stop her, she was gone, hurling herself headfirst into the night, disappearing from sight into the dark woods, tears rolling down her face. She didn't know where she was going, only that she had to get out -

That's when the car struck her, the white cross shining in the moonlight.

* * *

><p>Daryl slipped into Dawn's office, taking some solace from the shadows inside. He knew what he was about to do was suicide, but he had to do something. After Noah's escape, security at the hospital had been increased, with extra patrols and extra punishment. Hours had gone past filled with panic, hours of trying to avoid catching Dawn's attention. He'd seen Raeanne creeping down the corridor like a wounded animal, her face black and blue. The sight of her so had just increased his resolve to carry out his plan.<p>

He made his way over to the first filing cabinet, tugging at the handle, only to find it locked fast. Unperturbed, he made his way over to Dawn's desk, searching for something to pry it open, a large pair of silver scissors he'd spied during his last visit to her office. He bypassed a glass jar of lollipops, only to freeze at the sight of blood pooling across the ground. Cursing under his breath, he rounded the side of the desk, only to see Raeanne lying on the ground, huddled on her side, her wrists cut, the scissors lying beside her.

For a terrible moment, Daryl hesitated. If he went to get help, they'd want to know what the hell he was doing in Dawn's office without having a good reason for it. All his plans would be wiped out in an instant, maybe even along with his life. But he couldn't just leave a girl to die in her own blood, even if that was the escape she sought. Stooping down, he checked for a pulse, for anything, but she was cold and he was too late.

Standing up, he backed away from the body, his heart thudding hard in his chest, making it almost impossible to breathe. Then to his horror, the door creaked open behind him, Gorman's voice calling for Dawn. Daryl turned around, his gaze colliding with Gorman's. For a moment the two men looked at each other, and then Gorman grinned slowly and sadistically, enjoying the sight of having Daryl finally cornered.

"Hey there, redneck," Gorman said quietly, closing the door behind him, "hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Daryl didn't say anything, remaining rooted to the spot by the desk, his fists clenching by his sides.

"Y'know it was Dawn who ordered me to teach Raeanne a lesson," Gorman smirked, "and oh how I enjoyed exacting my revenge..." Gorman then swaggered over to him, his grin going even wider. "You're going down now, Dixon," he sneered, his face inches from Daryl's, "way down" -

Daryl snatched up the glass jar of lollipops from the desk, smashing it across Gorman's temple. He reeled sideways, crashing to the ground, and before Daryl could do anything, the re-animated Raeanne was sinking her teeth into Gorman's jugular, blood exploding everywhere. Daryl knelt down, picking up the scissors, before backing away, sensing justice was being served, the weak triumphing over the so called strong. Without a backwards glance, he shut the door behind him, barely registering the soft click as it closed.

Feeling as though all time was slowing down, he made his way back to his room, the scissors concealed by his sleeve as he clutched them in his hand. The ship was sinking, and he was going down with it, but he was going to take as many as he could with him, starting with Dawn. He walked down the corridor towards her, certainty steering him on that he was meant to do this, that it was he who had to end this. Her green gaze met his, invading, infecting. Then she turned away from him, her attention caught by the new patient being brought in by Dr. Edwards, the sound of the hospital wheels squeaking across the polished floor drilling into Daryl's skull.

He picked up his pace, his heart picking up speed as he moved to strike, only to freeze at the sight of Beth lying on the hospital trolley, her face oddly serene in its scarred state, but still his Beth, his light in the darkness, a light that was fast fading into oblivion.

_If I fall short_  
><em>If I break rank<em>  
><em>It's a bloodsport<em>  
><em>But I understand<em>  
><em>I am all yours<em>  
><em>I am a man<em>  
><em>I'm on all fours<em>  
><em>Willingly down...<em>


	22. I Found You

**I Found You**

"What's your diagnosis?" Dawn asked Dr. Edwards, turning to face him, her lips thinning.

"She'll make it," Dr. Edwards said bluntly. "The most that's wrong with her is a busted ankle and that can be easily fixed."

"How can you be sure though?" Dawn said from between gritted teeth.

"There's _nothing_," Dr. Edwards reiterated tersely, "so you don't need to worry about me wasting resources."

"Last time it was you who didn't want to waste resources," Dawn retorted.

"Because Trevitt was a goner" -

- "Trevitt was _valuable_," Dawn hissed.

"Maybe our new arrival will be a brain surgeon and that'll make up for losing your precious Trevitt," Dr. Edwards snapped, making Dawn's face redden with rage.

"If she is, you'll know all about it," Dawn said dangerously, before turning on her heel and stalking out of the room.

Dr. Edwards watched her leave, before turning back to Daryl, his smile not meeting his eyes. "Sorry about the cat-fight there," Dr. Edwards apologized, "Dawn likes to sharpen her claws on me sometimes like I'm some kind of scratching pole."

Daryl just grunted a storm raging under his still surface. He still had the silver scissors concealed up his sleeve, his hands shaking despite his best efforts to steady them, the shock hitting him like tidal waves that Beth was here in the hospital, right in front of him. "How do you know she'll be alright?" Daryl asked, careful to keep his voice careless as he glanced at Beth on the bed.

"For chrissake," Dr. Edwards snapped, his smile slipping, "if it's not Dawn questioning my medical skills, it's you. Next it'll be the goddamn guinea pigs. It was Raeanne who screwed up with Trevitt, not me."

Daryl forced himself to focus on a point past Dr. Edwards's head, the metal of the scissors cold against his skin as he remembered Raenanne messing up Trevitt's dosage because Dr. Edwards couldn't be bothered doing it himself, the memories playing in front of his mind's eye to the soundtrack of Dawn's voice, _Trevitt was valuable... _the hidden threat in her parting shot at Dr. Edwards's dig, _if she is, you'll know all about it... _

"Hey, earth to redneck," Dr. Edwards said, waving his hand in front of Daryl's face.

"What is it?" Daryl growled, taking a step back, tightening his grip around the scissors as he did so.

"Get your head in the game, Dixon," Dr. Edwards snapped, "we're done here."

"No we ain't," Daryl spat. "How the hell do you know she'll be alright? What happens if there's another screw-up, huh?"

"What does it matter to you?" Dr. Edwards said, confused. "She's just a stranger - she's nothing to you."

Daryl nearly sank the scissors through Dr. Edwards's skull there and then. "I said, how do you know she'll be alright!?" Daryl demanded, his face contorting with barely controlled rage. "She's just been hit by a car for God's sake!"

"It was probably just a glancing blow," Dr. Edwards explained, looking at Daryl as if he was mad, "it's all to do with the angle and trajectory - she's ran out in front of the car, and the way it's struck her, it's just knocked her flying, knocking her out" -

Daryl's jaw tightened as the doctor rambled on, his gaze dwelling on Beth's face, thinking of fate and how it had well and truly fucked him over. It had returned Beth to him in this hell-hole, the last place he'd ever want her near, and despite himself, despite everything, he wanted to fall on his knees and thank fate for the dirty trick it had just played on him -

"What's wrong with you, Dixon?" Dr. Edwards spat, snapping his fingers in front of Daryl's face, getting pissed off now. "It's like you're on another planet" -

- "_WALKERS!"_

* * *

><p>Daryl took one last look at Raeanne's ravaged face, remembering her birdlike gaze and careless manner with something close to regret, before tipping her body down the lift-shaft. He hadn't liked the girl much, but she hadn't deserved what had happened to her. But as he dragged Gorman's body to the lift doors, he took a savage satisfaction at the sight of Gorman's torn throat where Raeanne had ripped out his windpipe. Raeanne had exacted her last revenge, even as she'd robbed Daryl of doing it. Yet there something fitting about Gorman's final victim being the one to end the savage cycle of Gorman's abuse.<p>

Hoping the bastard was now rotting in hell, Daryl shoved Gorman's bloated corpse down into the darkness, before doing the same for the other two cops who'd crossed paths with the re-animated Gorman and Raeanne. Then he stood up, wiping his hands on his trousers, his gaze meeting Dawn's, green on grey, enemy upon enemy. He knew she knew he was responsible for the wreckage wreaked in her office, that he'd indirectly taken down three of her officers with his actions. But Daryl didn't give two shits that she knew, the war had already begun and he was going to end it, come hell or high water.

The only way Dawn could hurt him was through Beth, and he wasn't going to give her the chance to. He would kill Dawn before he let her lay a finger on Beth, and he knew exactly how he would do it. He'd concealed the silver scissors in the laundry room, figuring his own room would be the first place to be searched for them. As a weapon, they weren't much, but they were all he had for now, and there was something in the idea of killing Dawn with them that soothed his stormy soul. Others had tried to kill her with those scissors, and no matter how stupid it sounded, he would finish what they'd started. He'd cleaned Raeanne's blood from the blades with his bare hands, and it had just consecrated his resolve to end everything.

* * *

><p>Daryl closed the door behind him, pressing his back against the wood for a moment. He was risking everything coming in here, but he had to do it, to make sure it hadn't all just been in his head that Beth was here. After checking the corridor was clear, he'd taken his chance. If someone checked his own room and found him gone, there'd be hell to pay, but so be it. He had to do this.<p>

As he made his way to Beth's bedside, he saw that her old clothes had been replaced by the standard blue scrubs, the sight making rage rise in his heart. It was like she'd been tainted, soiled by something unclean. But as he studied her still face, taking in the scrapes and cuts from where it had hit asphalt, an odd peace descended on his troubled consciousness. No matter what, she was still Beth, all that he had left and all he had to live for.

"Beth," he said hoarsely, "it's me, Daryl." Against his very nature, he slid his hand into her small one, willing for her to wake up, to see him and smile that smile that got past all his defences. He'd spent his whole life being closed off from the world, and it had taken the world to end for him to start finally letting people in, Beth being the one to pry the last remaining bars of his prison cell wide, setting him free from the past. "I just want'd you to know I w's here," he whispered, taking one last look at her face before he made to leave.

As if she could hear him, her eyelids began to flutter, making Daryl hold his breath, hoping against hope. As her eyes slowly opened wide, Daryl exhaled sharply, his grip on her hand tightening as her frank blue gaze found his, at first confused; then recognition filtered through, making the corners of her mouth tilt upwards. "I found you," Beth breathed, "_I found you_."

_I found you, in my darkest hour__  
><em>_I found you, in the pouring rain__  
><em>_I found you, when I was on my knees__  
><em>_And your light brought me back again..._


End file.
